The Way
by Jenny T
Summary: AU Movieverse. My take on the movieverse, if I ran the world. What if Rogue ran in a different direction and didn't end up with the X-Men? Logan/Mystique, Logan/Ororo, Remy/Ororo, Kurt/Rogue
1. Chapter 1 On the Run

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them.  Damn.

A few character points:

This is based on Movieverse.  Remy hasn't met Ororo before.  Yes, I nicked Carver out of my Thorn fics.

Characters of the Way:

The Three: three telepaths who lead the Way.

Shadow, the head of the Way, a strong telepath who also can also move very quietly and sneak up on people g 

Darkling and Brightling: brother and sister, twins who must stay in contact at all times in order to use their powers.  Darkling is better at controlling and changing minds; Brightling's powers are more benevolent. 

Sword: Has ability to create energy fields; usually he forms a sword and armor like a medieval knight, hence the name.  Strongly devoted to the Way.

Violet: A healer, and very weakly telepathic.  Married to Sword.

Carver: Truck driver, and part-time recruiter for the Way.  Has ability to 'carve' patterns into objects when he places his hands on them; has difficulty controlling it, and thus wears gloves to stop himself accidentally etching patterns on everything he touches.

_Control is part of the way, Strength is part of the way, Power is part of the way._

_Love is part of the way, Mercy is part of the way, Honor is part of the way._

_And sometimes…__ Sometimes Vengeance is part of the way._

Part One: Running.

Marie hadn't hugged her parents behind.  Hadn't left a note.  She didn't think they'd mind.  Hell, her mother couldn't even _look at her no more._

She went to the truck stop near Main Street, hoping to find a lift.  But the way some of the drivers looked at her gave her the creeps.  She sat down at a table in the corner, thinking about how much money she had left.  She could get a bus… but her aunt worked at the Greyhound station.  She was sure to ask questions.

"Mind if I join you?" said one driver, slipping into the seat opposite.

"Ah don't mind." she said, looking at her hands.  She'd pulled some gloves out of her closet, and made sure she wore long sleeves.  She didn't want to hurt anyone else.

The man nodded.  "Here." he passed one of the boxes he was holding to her.  "Burger and fries.  Hope you like onions."

She was startled by his generosity.  "Thank you."

He shrugged.  "You looked hungry.  And I was curious, about them gloves of yours."

She pulled her hands away, trying to hide them under the table.

"None of that, now."  He pulled one of her hands back out from under the table.

"Don't, please."

"Not to worry, kid.  I'm not going to hurt you.  I just thought you might be wearing gloves for sort of the same reason I do."

She stared at him.  She hadn't noticed, but he did wear gloves, even when he was eating.

He placed one finger to his lips, looking around, and then slipped one off, placing his palm flat on the plastic countertop.

When he removed it, there was the perfect image of a rose, carved into the stained white plastic.

"Name's Carver, for obvious reasons." He slipped the glove back on.  "Yours?"

"Uh.  Ahm Rogue."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"Look, kid.  If you are what I think you are, I know some people who can help.  Good folks.  Just so happens, I'm going to be passing pretty close by them on my route.  So, if you want a lift."

If it wasn't for her mutation, she would have hugged him.

"Thank you, Carver."

"Just eat up.  We're on the road in ten."

Sabertooth walked into the Brotherhood lair, grinning.

Mystique, currently practicing the form of a blonde-haired mistress of a certain politician they were targeting, rolled her eyes at him.

"What?"

"I know that look, Victor.  You were supposed to be gathering information, not beating people up."  
He shrugged.  "Good way to get information."

"Save the aggressive-aggressive tendencies for later, when we _want you to kill something.  Did you find out anything useful?"_

"Ran into an old friend."  
  


"Becoming quite the social animal, aren't we?" asked Magneto, entering the room.  "That is not what I pay you for, Sabertooth."

Victor shrugged again.  "He might be useful.  Maybe you've heard of him.  Runt by the name of Wolverine?"

Magneto smiled, for once.  "Indeed.  And where is he now?"

"Oh, he's living the carefree life I used to know." Sabertooth put on what was, for him, a nostalgic face.  "Drinking, fighting, enjoying the company of loose women."

Toad snorted.  "Last time I checked, you still did all those things."

Sabertooth growled at him, advancing with murderous intent.

"Enough!" yelled Magneto.  "Don't kill him, Victor, he might actually turn out to be useful one day."  
 "Hey!"

"Take Raven with you, find Wolverine, and bring him back – mostly unharmed please.  I'd rather recruit him than kill him."

Victor sulked at that, but Raven just laughed.

"I'll keep our feral friend under control, boss.  Don't you worry."


	2. Chapter 2 Something Worth Leaving Behin...

Disclaimer: I own nothing, you hear me?  Nothing!  (Apart from that whole big slew of original characters, but they're just incidental.  I created them mostly as plot devices.)

'The Way' was located on a little farm in Nowhere, PA.

"It looks so ordinary." was the first thing Rogue said.

Carver grinned.  "It's supposed to.  They like to keep a low profile, keep out of people's way.  Just walk up to the gate, tell 'em Carver sent you.  They'll take care of you."

"You're not coming in?" she asked?

"Haven't got time."

But she could tell from his face that it was something else.

As she walked up to the gate, someone appeared out of nowhere.

"Why hello, beautiful."

She blushed at his words.  "Um, Carver sent me?"

"Is that so, Chere?  Then Remy must remember t' t'ank him, for sending an angel his way."

"Leave the poor girl alone, Gambit.  We don't want her to run away."

Two others approached the gate.  The one who had spoken was a tiny, blonde girl with bright purple eyes.  The second, towering over her, was a serious looking man.

The tall man unlocked the gate, shoving Gambit?  Remy? out of the way.

He shook her gloved hand before she could hide it behind her back.

"I'm Sword.  The little one is Violet, and the annoying one is Remy."

"Or Gambit, or Cajun, or Swampy, or Thief, or You!" said Violet, grinning.  

"Depending on the mood you're in, or what he's done wrong now."

Remy pouted.  "Gambit don't have t' stay here and listen t' y' insult 'im."

"No," said Sword.  "You can go somewhere else and we'll say it behind your back."

"Jus for that," Remy said, "Remy is not giving back y' katana."

Sword's face darkened.  "Where did you put it, Cajun."

"You see what I mean about the names?" whispered Violet to Rogue, grinning.

"Remy wish y' luck in finding it on y' own."

There was a roar, and Sword chased Gambit across the fields, yelling.

"Come back here!  I'm going to gut you, Thief!"

"Oui," came the sarcastic reply. "When y' put it like that, Remy stop running now."

Violet just laughed.  "Don't worry; they won't really hurt each other.  What is your name, by the way?"

"Ahm Rogue."

"Well then, Rogue, let's take you to meet Shadow and the rest."

Wolverine sat in a corner, observing the other members of the Brotherhood.  So far, he hated Sabertooth, merely tolerated Toad, and Magneto gave him the creeps.  Raven, however…

He flashed a grin at her, shifted into the form of some woman she was supposed to be impersonating.  Wolverine didn't take much note of Maggie's political agenda.

She noticed his grin, and flashed something else back.

Logan grinned even wider.  Yep, he liked it here, for now.  Lots of fighting, a fair amount of drinking, and one beautiful shapeshifter with a_ heck of a lot of *ahem* talent._

"Wolverine!" Magneto's voice echoed through the room.

He rolled his eyes at Raven.  "Coming, Maggie!"

She laughed out loud when Erik, obviously tiring of his insubordination, dragged him through the door by his metal skeleton.

Hell, life would be boring if you didn't piss someone off every now and again.

Magneto threw him bodily into a chair, and then laid a photograph on the desk.

"David Jones.  FOH Philadelphia branch.  I've just got information that he's behind the murders over there.

Logan growled.  Several young mutants had turned up, dead and multilated.  The police, of course, did nothing.

"And ya want me to deal out some justice, Brotherhood style?" he inquired.  "Why not just send Vic?"

Eric grinned.  "Because I just want him dead, Wolverine.  Not his wife, not his children, not his dog, not his neighbors.  Sabertooth can't be trusted.  Besides, I have another job for him."

Logan returned a couple days later, quite satisfied with his completed job.  He'd followed the jerk after an FOH meeting, as he went off to a strip club with his buddies.  David Jones, murderer of at least five mutant children, died quite messily in an alleyway outside a strip club.

There were a bunch of new scents in the lair when he returned.

"Have fun?" asked Raven, a glint in her eye.

Logan shrugged.  "Some.  Maggie been recruiting again?"

"Huh?"

"Come off it, Raven.  I can smell them, ya know.  What's he up ta?"

Understanding dawned on her face.  "Oh, them.  We got a few of the X-Men why you were away."

He snorted.  "X-Men?"

Mystique nodded.  "Goody two-shoes mutants without the balls to do what's necessary; so they run around trying to stop us.  They would have tried to stop you killing David, if they'd known about it."

Logan stared at her, disbelieving.  "Why?"

"Oh, because no-one deserves to die, or something like that." She rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, beauty.  That man did."

X-Men, huh?  Sounded interesting.  Stupid, but interesting.

There were three of them, restrained by metal bonds.  A boy, his head held in the direction of a red-headed girls face, his eyes tightly shut.  The red-head was kinda cute.  And the third one…

Logan let out a low whistle as he saw the third prisoner, a beautiful young woman with dark skin and pure white hair.  And her scent – her scent washed over him, intoxicating.

He took a couple steps towards him.

"And just what _are you doing, Wolverine?"_

Magneto leant against the doorframe.  Logan snorted.

"Just looking, Maggie.  Calm yerself."  He grinned.  "I can't believe these three _children are what have been giving ya so much trouble."_

"They are stronger than they look." said Magneto.  "I trust your mission was successful?"

"More than.  Gutted him outside a strip club.  That'll look nice in the papers."

Now, why would it hurt, that the white-haired girl looked at him with such sorrow at his confession?

"Better yet," he continued. "This club – ah, Club M, - specializes…" he paused for effect, "in 'mutant' girls, although I doubt they have many actual mutants working for them."

That made Magneto pause.  "A prominent member of the FOH, found dead in an alley outside a mutant strip club?"  He chuckled.

"Sometimes, Wolverine, you outdo yourself."

They left together, Logan casting one long look back at the white-haired woman.

Before Magneto turned into his office, he placed a hand on Logan's shoulder and said.

"If you want the white-haired one, Wolverine, be my guest.  You might have to fight Sabertooth for her, though."

It took him two days to come up with a plan.  A stupid, reckless, probably going to get him killed, plan, but a plan nonetheless.  He just couldn't bear to think of Sabertooth getting his hands on _his girl._

The only problem he could see, was that, even if he concocted this escape during Toad's watch, Maggie would wake up, and then he was a dead man.  During the afternoon of the second day, Raven cornered him in his room.

"Are you thinking of doing it tonight?"

"Doing what tonight, darlin'?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Freeing the damn X-Men.  I know you too well, Logan."

"Raven…".

She kissed him.  "Hush.  I'll take care of Magneto, slip something in his food.  You take care; and keep them out of my way.  I don't want to have to hurt you."

Mystique placed something in his hand and left.

Logan stared down at the object in his hand – the keys to Mystiques newly acquired helicopter.

Ororo looked up, as he returned.  One or other of the mutants named Sabertooth and Wolverine were always hanging around the cell, _looking at her.  They were usually so busy fighting each other, they'd not got round to doing anything else yet._

_~You always wanted to be popular, for all the guys to like you.  I guess this brings new meaning to 'be careful what you wish for'~_

This time, it was Wolverine.  Slightly better than Sabertooth, in that, although they were both fairly evil, Wolverine appeared to be mostly sane, and, she had to admit, rather good looking.

"And how are ya today, darlin'" he asked.

"I would be better if you would release me."

"Perhaps later." he said.  He came and knelt down beside her, lifting a strand of white hair in his hands.

"You keep away from her!" cried Scott.

Logan grinned, lifting the strand of hair to his nose, inhaling deeply.

"And what are ya going ta do if I don't, bub?"

He leaned forward, brushing her hair away from the side of her face.  She tried to move away, as much as her bonds would allow for movement.  But his touch was gentle, almost reverent.  ~_And creepy.  Definitely creepy.~_

"I'm getting ya out." he whispered in her ear. "Tonight, and yer friends too.  Be ready."

Then he left.

Not the usual sort of sweet talk, but at the moment, Storm couldn't care less.

_~'Ro?~ asked Jean._

_~He might actually be on our side.  He said he'd try to break us out tonight.  Tell Scott.~_

Jean nodded.

Wolverine crept into the cell a little after midnight.  Vic was asleep, and Toad on watch – if thumping the TV trying to get the Playboy channel to tune in properly counted as 'on watch'.

He cut through their bonds easily, guiding them out of the cell.  The boy kept his eyes tightly closed, the redhead guiding him.  Logan frowned.  That could slow them down.

"So," the boy said.  "What's the next part of your plan."

Logan dangled the keys off the end of his finger.  

"Any of you kids know how ta fly a helicopter?"  
The white-haired goddess went to snatch the keys, but he pulled them away.

"Uh uh, darlin' First, I want ta be properly introduced."

"My name is Ororo."

"Hmm." He considered it.  "I wouldn't have pegged ya for Arabic.  Suits ya though.  This way."

Logan tossed the keys to her, and led them down a passage.  Suddenly, Sabertooth leaped before them.

"Give it up, Runt."

Wolverine growled, letting his claws come out.  "Not likely, Vic."

The three X-Men stood back, as the two ferals battled it out in the enclosed space.  They looked closely matched, but step by step, Sabertooth was winning, forcing Logan backwards.

Until he was hit in the head with a crowbar.

"Raven?"

The blue-skinned woman rolled her eyes, preparing for another strike.  Sabertooth was getting up again, murder in his eyes.

"Logan, you idiot.  Run!"

Followed by the three X-Men, Logan charged down the corridor towards the helicopter pad.  He heard Mystique scream as they entered the helicopter.  Not pausing, he practically threw Ororo at the controls.  
 "We need to get out of here, now!"

Just as the helicopter lifted off, a furious Sabertooth rushed out to the helipad.  He threw himself at the helicopter, almost catching it with one claw, but a second later he was left snarling on the ground and they were free.

Logan leant back against the wall.  _~Raven, ya stupid bitch.~_

"I still can't believe that Mystique just helped us escape." said the boy.

"She didn't help ya, bub.  She helped me."

Ororo turned around, her eyes understanding.

"We could you back for her, if you like."

Before the boy could protest at that, Logan said.

"There's no point, Darlin'.  She's already dead."

He closed his eyes, thinking of one of those country songs that Raven had loved so much.

_~If I will love, then I will find, that I have touched another life, and that's something.  Something worth leaving behind.~_

_A/N: Song is 'Something worth leaving behind' by Lee Ann Womack.  I'm not usually much for country music, but I like it._


	3. Chapter 3 Settling In

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  Except the original characters, and they belong to my brain, and my brain belongs to the pixies, so we're back to nothing again.  Besides, it's discrimination to sue the mentally unstable.

Rogue sat with Brightling, practicing mantras.  Frankly, she felt a little silly, especially seeing as sitting with Brightling, nice as she was, meant putting up with her sour brother.  Darkling sat just to the side of his sister, one hand on her shoulder.

"Emotional control is the key to the control of almost every mutation, Rogue." Brightling was saying.

_~Yeah, and Ah've had this speech ten times already.~_

Darkling chuckled.  "Getting bored?"  
His sister turned on him.  "Reading minds again?"

"Oh gee, am I not wearing my 'I'm a telepath, ask me how' t-shirt?"

"You know what I mean!  Going into someone's head without permission…"

"Are you my sister, or my mother?  She wasn't paying attention anyway…"

As the fight escalated, Rogue backed out of the room – right into Shadow.

"Is practice over?"  
 "It's looking that way.  Do ya always have ta sneak up like that?"  
 "A bad habit.  I apologise." Shadow smiled.  "Actually, I was coming to find you – and the twins, although they look a little busy right now."

"Something actually happen 'round here?"

"We have another newcomer."

The meeting with the Professor was… interesting, to say the least.  Although it was already obvious that this place would be hell on his enhanced senses, what with the kids, it would probably be no worse then sharing close quarters with the stink of Vic and Toad.

He was only half listening to the speech he was receiving, picking up the relevant bits of information, while focusing on Ororo.

~_Boy is Scott, Red is Jean.  I wonder if Ororo speaks Arabic?~_

If she did, he had a few choice phrases for her.  It was one of those things – he couldn't quite remember when he'd learnt the language, although he did remember that sand stung and that camels were stubborn beasts, much more difficult to handle than a horse; although of course, he couldn't remember the last time he'd ridden a horse, either.

Chuck's offer to 'help' him in that respect stung.  He hadn't mentioned his memory loss out loud, and the thought of someone poking around in his mind…  Besides, what he could and couldn't remember was his own damn business.

The next bit was, in his mind, the best part of the day.  Ororo gave him a tour of the mansion, which mostly consisted of him trailing behind her, watching her hips swing back and forth.

Ororo finished the tour at the gardens, a small smile on her face.  She could feel his eyes on her back – well, a little lower than her back, most of the time, and it was nice to have a bit of an ego boost, living with Miss Jean the Perfect.  And she hadn't been wiggling her hips at all.  Nope, not flirting with the ex-terrorist.  Most certainly not.

Okay, maybe a little.

"Sooo…" she said, flopping down on a bench among the roses.  "Tell me about yourself."

"Nothing ta tell."

"Oh come on!" she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder (nope, still not flirting.)  "At least tell me why you joined the Brotherhood."

He shrugged.  "I was bored."

Ororo giggled.  "You joined a terrorist organization out of boredom?  You couldn't learn a musical instrument, or collect stamps, or something?"

He didn't answer that, just leaned forward, and in Arabic, said "Do you know you're beautiful when you laugh?"

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, but she moved away from him, all the same.

_~Not flirting with the ex-terrorist.  Not flirting with the ex-terrorist.~_

"Ok then, next question." she said, trying to keep her voice calm.  "Where did you learn Arabic?"

Another shrug.  "Somewhere with sand."

"Well that narrows it down, doesn't it?"

He shifted away from her at that remark, an expression she couldn't quite recognize hpassing across his face.

"I wouldn't know.  I don't remember."

_~And we will now pause while the Windrider removes her foot from her mouth.~_

Storm placed one hand on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Next question."

Alright, she could take a hint.

"Why did you leave the Brotherhood, then?"

"Well, the hours were long and the dental plan was shit…" he began, then trailed off.

"No, that's a lie.  I did it all for a girl with hair like snow, who smells like the new dawn after a night of rain."

He stroked one finger gently down her cheek; she didn't move away.

_~Okay, I admit it.  Now I'm flirting with the ex-terrorist~ _

Moving a little closer, she said "You have the soul of a poet, Logan."

He laughed.  "Sssh, darlin'.  Don't go telling anyone."

The newcomer was covered up with a large cloak – when he took it off, Marie could see why.

"Everybody," announced Shadow, "this is Kurt."

"Hi Kurt!" chorused Violet and Sword.

Remy muttered "Hi, my name is Remy, and I'm a mutant." – and got a kick in the ankle from Violet for his trouble.

Marie said nothing, fascinated by Kurt's appearance.  Although he may have looked demonic to some, he reminded her of nothing so much as a cuddly toy.  In fact, she'd had a toy as a child that had looked a lot like him.  She'd called it Fuzzy Elf.

She smiled at him, and he smiled shyly back.

Then the twins rushed in, arguing about whose fault it was they were late; hand-in-hand, they eventually got themselves together enough to greet Kurt in that odd little synchronized way they had.

And once she'd introduced herself properly to Kurt – as Rogue – she sat in the overstuffed old chair in the corner, watching her friends fool around, and let Marie slip away into the darkness.  Marie belonged at home with the parents who had loved her; Rogue belonged here, with the people who had accepted her.

She was home.


	4. Chapter 4 Getting to know you

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.  Except of course for my original characters – and does anyone really care about them?  Probably not.

Timeline: A few months after the last chapter.

Disclaimer the second: My accent writing ability sucks, and I haven't tried to write Kurt before, so be prepared for greater than usual suckage.

This chapter is dedicated to scififreak, who suggested Rogue/Kurt in the first place.  You see what happens when you review?

_Control is part of the way, Strength is part of the way, Power is part of the way, Love is part of the way, Mercy is part of the way, Honor is part of the way, Control is part of the way, Strength is part of the way, Power is part of the way, Love is part of the way…_

"Hey." said Kurt, dropping down beside Rogue and interrupting her mediation.

"Hey yourself, Elf."

As usual, he grinned at her pet name for him, settling himself in the soft grass next to her.

"Where is your admirer today?"

She laughed.  "Gambit is locked in the kitchen, preparing his 'Cajun Feast' for tonight, so Ah'm free, for once."

They laid for a long time like that, just talking.  Usually Remy was always hanging around, flirting, trying to make her blush.  It was nice to have a chance to just talk to Kurt, for once.  

"What are you thinking about, Liebling?"

She shrugged.  "Ah don't know.  Ah just don't think Ah'll ever get control."

"Ya, maybe not.  And maybe Übung macht den Meister, Rogue."

"Huh?"

"Practice makes perfect."

"Ah suppose that means I should get back ta meditating" she sighed.

Kurt frowned, and pushed himself back upright, next to her.

"Maybe you should try it another way?"

"Like what, Sugah?"  
  


He grabbed her wrist around the sleeve, holding her bare hand up, nearly touching his.

"What are ya doing, Fuzzy Elf?"

"Practice makes perfect, ja?  Maybe you just need something to focus on."

  
She sat there for what seemed like forever.  She could hear the twins arguing down by the house, and the faraway voices of Sword and Shadow, deep in discussion.  Suddenly, she felt something 'click', like a piece of a puzzle fitting into place, and she grabbed Kurt's hand before she lost it.

His eyes widened, but nothing else happened.

"D'ya think it's working?"  
"I'm not dead yet, so yeah."

Rogue began to shriek with joy.  "I did it!  I did it!  I…"

As she lost her concentration, she felt the pull begin, and pushed Kurt away, a little harder than she meant to.

He fell back, but rolled over and quickly stood up again with the grace of a natural gymnast.

"Congratulations!"

"Ah lost it." she said, looking sad.

"But you did get control, Liebling."

"For all of ten seconds, Elf."

Kurt sighed.  "I hate to repeat my self, Rogue, but practice does make perfect.  Give me a little while, and I'll be ready to try again."

It took an hour and a half of arguing for Kurt to get Rogue to try again.  This time, she held on for a minute.

The third time, they tried it with both hands.

The fourth, she kissed him.

"Mein Gott!" he'd exclaimed, blushing purple.  "Why did you do that?"

"Practice." she'd explained, a wicked grin on her face.

After that, practice became much more fun.

Darkling looked like he was about to comment when they walked in the door, but Brightling hit him before he could.  Violet just smiled, and after a second, Sword did too.

"Congratulations" he said.

She concentrated long enough to give him a quick handshake.

Shadow glided out behind them.

"Congratulations indeed, Rogue.  I knew you would make progress with the right… motivation."

The assembled company laughed at that, and then settled down round the table.

"Remy hope y' like it hot!"

Gambit, wearing only tattered jeans and a 'kiss the cook' apron, strutted into the room, bearing the first of what he'd promised would be many 'Cajun delicacies'.

He noticed, with annoyance, that Rogue was ignoring him, talking to Kurt, and that Violet was watching them both with a sappy look on her face.

"Something tells Remy 'e don't want t' know." he muttered, slamming the first dish down on the table and stalking back to the kitchen.

"And where are you going?"

Logan shrugged.  "Out."

Ororo leaned against the door.  "Yes, well I've noticed what happens when you go 'out', Logan.  Upstanding members of society tend to be found beaten unconscious outside bars the next day."

He snorted.  "Upstanding members of the FOH.  I'm not allowed to defend myself, darlin?"

"Do not call me darlin'" she replied, eyes flashing.  "I can't believe you get into that many fights by accident.  What do you do, wear a shirt saying 'I'm a mutant, wanna fight?'"

"You'd prefer I beat up on yer boy scout?  God knows I'm not having any other fun around here, 'Ro."

She raised an eyebrow at that comment.  The wind outside picked up, and any sensible person, knowing Storm, would have backed down at that point.

That was the problem she faced, dealing with Wolverine.  He didn't believe in sensible.

"If you are going out, then I am coming with you."

"It's a rough bar, darlin'.  Think ya can handle it?"

She didn't dignify that with a reply, just walked past him, out the door.  Once she was down the steps, she turned around.

"Take your eyes off my ass, Logan.  Are you coming, or not?"

He laughed, and followed her.

The bar was called the "Freak-House", and was in about as rough a neighborhood as you could get.  At the door, two bouncers leaned, one on either side, their body language saying, in the universal and time honored bouncers code: "Yeah.  Just try it."

One was a giant of a man, almost seven foot tall, and as wide as the door he guarded.  The other was a stocky woman, her dark hair cropped almost to her head.  Tattoos covered every area of exposed skin except her face – and there was a fair amount of skin exposed.

"Logan." she said, as they walked up to the entrance.  "Long time.  Who's the girl?"

"A friend."  Wolverine indicated the man-mountain.  "Who's that?"

She grinned.  "A friend.  Name of Tower.  He's new here.  Doesn't talk much."  
 "Ya gonna let us in, Ink?"

Storm shivered, as one of the snakes tattooed around Ink's neck suddenly reared up and hissed at them.  An illusion, she realized.

"Depends.  Is your _friend dangerous?"_

That was it.  She was sick of them talking over her head.

She stepped forward, putting herself between Logan and Ink.  Just a small display of power, of the frivolous sort that Xavier really frowned upon.

The wind picked up, a hard gale bringing with it biting cold.  A couple of teenaged hookers on the opposite corner squealed and ran for the relative comfort of the nearest bus shelter, but Ink just grinned.

Storm leant forward, as thunderclaps boomed through the sky.

"Only if provoked."

The wind stopped as quickly as it had started.

Ink said nothing, just gestured to Tower, who opened the door for them.

Inside, the bar was packed.  It smelt of stale beer and sweat.  And lining every wall, surrounding every table, hanging from the rafters, in some cases, were mutants.  A few bloodshot eyes turned their way, but Wolverine was known, and the other, obviously one of them, so they turned back to their drinks.  

Logan cleared a space at the bar by the simple means of shoving a few people aside, and got the bartenders attention by threatening to rip up the bar.  He ordered two beers, handing one to 'Ro.

Ororo took a swig of beer, and surveyed the room.  There were all kinds of mutants here, from the mudane looking (the blonde woman standing by the door, absolutely normal unless you noticed she was floating an inch off the ground), to the truly bizarre.  Candidates for the latter category included a woman with the scales and tongue of a snake, who was engaged in a friendly wrestling match with a boy – surely too young for the beer he'd just upended – whose skin was entirely transparent.  A couple of others were cheering them on.

"Ya see why I like it here?" inquired Logan, putting an arm around the shoulder.

"Indeed." she replied, wriggling away from the casual embrace.

He laughed.  "Ya could shit fire and they wouldn't care.  Might not notice."

"I'd notice."

Logan chugged the rest of his beer.  " 'Nother?"

Storm rolled her eyes.  "I've barely started this one!"

"Wimp".

Logan laughed, on his fourth whiskey.  He'd given up on beers after number fifteen.  Goddamn healing factor.  'Ro, on the other hand, was nursing her third drink, with no apparent intention of having another.  She yawned.

"It's not that late, darlin'"

"It's almost four o'clock, Logan, and some of us were up yesterday morning at six, and are supposed to be teaching a class in around five hours time."

He sighed, downed the whiskey, and took her beer off her and downed that too.

"Hey!"

"Yer tired.  We'll go home."  
 "I can't believe that you're fit to drive."

"I'm fit for all kinds of things, 'Ro"

Ororo could barely keep her eyes open as they drove home, and Logan had to carry her up the stairs to her room.  By the time they got there, she was already snoring gently.  He chuckled, and laid her gently down on her bed, taking off her shoes (pretty toes), and covering her with a sheet.

"Love ya, darlin" he whispered.  "And one of these days I'm going to prove it to ya."


	5. Chapter 5 Confrontations and Concerns

Disclaimer: Still not mine.  Don't sue me, I'm not worth the time.

Winter had come to Westchester, keeping everyone cooped inside - except, of course, Wolverine, who either didn't care about the cold, or pretended he didn't care – either way,  it suited Ororo just fine.  Having Logan around all the time was… confusing.  One second he'd be flirting with her, in the best of moods, the next, he'd get mad, destroy part of the mansion, and then disappear for a few days.

He never had a scratch on him when he returned, but that didn't fool her.  She'd tried asking around at the Freak-House (they went there every Friday that Logan wasn't in a pissy mood – Scott had given up on the Saturday early morning practice), but even his friends there didn't know where it was he went.

"Wolverine can take care of himself." was Ink's view.

Lately, he'd taken to running off into the woods that surrounded the mansion – which was quite possibly why he and Scott hadn't come to blows yet.

Although given the argument currently raging, that particular lucky streak was about to end.

"…irresponsible, endangering the lives of the children like that…"  
 "Take the stick outta your ass, Summers.  The kid's gonna be fine."  
  


"What happened?" she asked Jean, who slipped onto the couch beside her.

"Logan's been teaching some of the kids after hours, – street fighting, dirty stuff." Jean sighed.  "Bobby apparently made a mistake this afternoon, ended up with a cut from knee to hip from one of Logan's claws.  He'll be alright…"

"But Scott and Logan may never be whole of temper again" joked Ororo, turning her attention back to the fight

"…did you think you were doing?"

"Teaching 'em."  
 "We have self defense classes already, Wolverine.  Ones in which the students don't get sliced up!"

"Can it, Cyke.  I wasn't teaching 'em self defense, bub.  I was teaching 'em how to kill."

Oh Goddess.

That left even Scott speechless for a few seconds.

"They're children, Logan." chided Jean.  "There's no need for that kind of…"

"They're not kids, Red.  They're mutants."

"That shouldn't make a difference."

"So ya keep saying, Red, but they aint got time fer that.  Half the world wants to destroy 'em, and when the war comes, I'm gonna make sure they're ready."

"So that's why you hang around here?" asked Scott.  "Trying to turn the Institute into some training ground for little assassins?"

"No.  That's not why I 'hang around'."

"What, then.  Why don't you just do us all a favor and piss off back to Canada?"

"None of ya business, bub."

But when he said it, he looked straight at Storm, and something in his eyes made her blush and shiver at the same time.

Cyclops followed his line of sight, and scowled.  "You're staying around so you can try to get a leg over?"

If Wolverine had had his claws out, the blow would have probably killed Scott.  As it was, he went flying across the room, crashing into the entertainment centre.

"No.  I stay here because I'm in love with her."

Jean opened the back door before he could cut his way through it, and he disappeared out into the cold.  

"Go on, Storm.  I'll take care of Mr Tactless here."

Ororo nodded, heading out after her friend.

Jean closed the door after her with a look, then headed over to Scott.

_~One thing about having __Logan__ about, it certainly keeps me busy in the infirmary.~_

When Kurt woke up, Rogue was long gone.  He knew without looking where she would be – out in the fields, even in this cold, doing her morning exercises.  Last night she'd stayed until he slept, but then, no doubt, she'd slipped back to her own bed.

Her hard won control didn't work when she was unconscious.  Sleeping, she would be more dangerous to him than she could ever be awake.  It put an artificial barrier between them – and he knew it dwelt heavily on Rogue's mind.

_~Mein Gott, you test me still.~_

Her 'exercises' were three hours in the morning, two in the evening; and even still, she didn't always trust herself.  Ja, they had lots of 'practice', and it was wonderful.  Kurt had never expected to find love, and he thanked God for her every day.

It was the other things that bothered him.  She avoided contact – holding hands, snuggling.  When Violet and Sword cuddled on the couch during the Friday night late movie – a Way tradition – Kurt and Rogue sat apart, because Rogue was afraid she'd grow sleepy during the movie and lose control.  When she went with the others to the local farmers market, he knew that she still wore gloves, afraid of what her powers could do, among so many people.

He sighed, and headed downstairs.   Couldn't think on an empty stomach.

_~One way or another, I will help you to trust yourself.~_

Logan was crouched in a clearing some ways into the woods.  Ororo hadn't had much trouble following him – there had been a clear path of broken branches and tree trunks marked by claws.

He looked up at her as she approached.

"Whadda ya want?"

"Can we talk, Logan?"

"Not in the mood."

"Logan…"

"Save it, 'Ro".  His eyes were suddenly darker, feral.  "I have no illusions about what I am.  I am not a good man.  I am not a thing worth saving.  I am not a creature worthy of your love."  He rubbed his thumb, perhaps unconsciously, over his knuckles.

"I just didn't need some boy rubbing it in my face."

He stood up and turned away, stalking out of the clearing.

_~Oh, for heavens sake.~_

She grabbed him by the shoulder before he could leave.

"Now it is my turn to talk.  You are irritating, reckless and rude, and half the time I don't know why I put up with you.  But you are a good man, you don't **need saving, and whether or not you are worthy of my love…"**

The kiss was soft, sweet, and over far too quickly.  Wolverine stood there gaping at her while she continued.

"That is yet to be seen.  But if you ever grow up and decide you want to find out… you know where I'll be."

A/N:  Review!  Coming up next: much evilness and Ororo/Remy.


	6. Chapter 6 Things that are Lost

Disclaimer: Not mine, just like they weren't in any of the previous chapters.

Ororo sighed as she saw Jean come into the kitchen.  She'd managed to avoid her friends questions last night, but she knew she couldn't hide forever.

"So?"

"So what, Jean?"

"So what, Jean?" mocked her friend.  "You know exactly what.  Spill."

"I've nothing to say."

"Well, if nothing happened, then you need cheering up, girl.  Come on, it's Saturday.  The kids can take care of themselves for a few hours – lets go shopping."

Storm allowed herself to be dragged out of the mansion.

"Are you sure nothing happened?"

"I never said that."

"Ororo!"

Sabertooth watched as the two women entered the mall.  Knock out the red haired one first, and then the other shouldn't be too much of a problem.  He grinned in anticipation.  The runt always got too involved with his frails.  He shoulda learnt better by now.  Made him too easy to get to.

At the other end of the mall, Violet and Sword were just getting out of their car.  Violet was exited – it wasn't often that they got far away from the farm, or had money to go shopping, but when she'd found out she was pregnant, everyone had chipped in.  (Remy swore up and down that he'd come by his share legitimately, and she chose to believe him, although Sword was more skeptical).

Sword was drawn away the instant they entered the mall – there was a shop just by the entrance, with a variety of sharp-edged weapons on display.  Violet sighed.

"Ten minutes, darling.  I'll be in Mothercare.  Try to remember why we're here?"

"Mmhmm?"

Shaking her head, Violet walked up the stairs, mentally cataloguing what she'd need.  A few clothing items, although Brightling had promised to sew her some clothes.  Sword was going to make the cot, but one of those baby carriers would be good.  Bottles, maybe a pram if they had enough money.  Perhaps the cash would stretch to a few toys?  She'd have to see.

Her mental ramble was interrupted by screams up ahead.

_~Sword!~_

But she might not have time to wait for her husband – one woman, her red hair askew, lay unconscious, while another, eyes and hair as white as pure snow, battled a snarling figure.

Stopping only to reach out with her healing power to the redhead, and check her injuries weren't life-threatening, she ran towards the couple.

_~Sorry for the bumpy ride, baby.~_

The feral looking man was choking the young woman.  Violet stepped forward, trying desperately to gain control of his mind.  Damn, she'd seen Darkling demonstrate these techniques a thousand times, hadn't she?

She might as well have held back a flash flood with an origami dam.  The beast-man, noticing her petty tampering, backhanded her in the stomach, sending her flying into a shop window.  Before she blacked out, she saw him leaving, holding the now-unconscious form of the white-haired woman under one arm.

"Violet!"  Sword arrived to the disturbance just in time to see his wife go flying across the room.  He ran after the monster who'd attacked her, but he'd ran out of the mall, a captive in hand.  Sword couldn't keep up, and returned to Violet's side.  A crowd of people surrounded her.

"Please, I'm her husband."

"I've called 911, sir."

He nodded at the woman, and returned to cradling Violet.

_~Come on, my love.  Hold on.  Don't leave me.~_

The ambulance arrived, the paramedics pushing him aside.  He hovered around, feeling utterly useless.  They let him ride in the ambulance, watching her pale, still, form.

"She's going to be alright." said one of the paramedics.

But he didn't respond, just stared.

Someone was going to pay.

"It's Sword." said Brightling, right before the phone starting ringing.  
 "Show off." laughed Rogue, answering it.

"Hi Sword!"

"Uh, Hi Rogue.  Is everybody there?"

Rogue looked around the room.  Indeed the whole of the Way was crowded around the old television, Kurt and Remy arguing over which the best Bond film was.

"Yeah… Is everything alright, Sword?"

"Not really… one minute."

Sword turned to the doctor.  "What's happened now?"

"Were you aware that your wife was pregnant?"

He felt his stomach turn.  God, he was going to throw up.

"The baby.  There's something wrong with the baby?"

The doctor laid one hand on his shoulder, her eyes sorrowful.  "I regret to inform you that your wife has had a miscarriage, Mr Sword.  There was nothing we could do.  She is fine though, and resting easily.  I'm very sorry."

"Sword?" Rogues voice came down the phone.  "You still there, Sugah?"

"Yeah.  Look, you all need to come up to New York.  Violets in the hospital.  I can't really talk about it…" his voice cracked.  "Just get Shadow to take it out of my head, okay?"

He hung up.

"Sword?"

Shadow looked at her with concern.  "What is it?"

"Something happened with Violet and Sword.  He said to just…" she shrugged. "get it out of his head."

There was a pause, and then all three telepaths gasped.

Shadow was the first to speak.

"We're going to New York.  Take only what you need."

Logan had sat out all night, thinking about what Storm had said.  When had life got so complicated?

But even as he thought that, he knew he wouldn't miss his 'simple' life.

He couldn't find Storm anywhere, but the boy was sitting in the kitchen, a multicolored bruise on his forehead.

"Where's 'Ro, Scooter?"

The boy scowled, but answered him anyway.  The redhead must have told him to behave.

"Ororo and Jean have gone to the mall.  They left about an hour ago."

Logan nodded, rifling through the fridge for something decent to eat.  Ah, a beer.  Liquid nutrition.

Suddenly the boy cried out, and ran for the front door.  Logan followed him, beer still in hand.  The redhead was there, a lump on her head, and she was babbling something about the mall and being attacked, and 'Ro…

The beer crashed to the ground.  Logan recognized the scent of the one who'd attacked Red.

Sabertooth.

Remy was driving carelessly, but even still, it took them two hours to get to the hospital.  Sword had met them at the entrance, carrying Violet in his arms.  She was awake, barely, and he was ignoring the lady doctor, trying to convince him not to take her away.

"She needs rest, Mr Sword, and plenty of it.  We'd prefer to keep her for observation."

"She'll get rest, Doc.  What she needs is family."

They stopped over at a 'safe house' that Shadow knew of, and laid Violet out on one of the beds.  Sword described her attacker as best he could.

Remy frowned.  "Shadow?"

"Yes?"

"Remy t'ink he know dis man.  Y' can put what Sword saw into Remy's head?"

Shadow nodded, and a second later, Remy looked up, his red-on-black eyes bright in the darkness of the room.

"Dis fellow by the name of Sabertooth t' one y' after.  Works for some crazy by t' name of Magneto."

"Do you think Magneto was behind the attack on the girls at the mall."

Remy shrugged.  "Could be.  In Nawlin's de Brotherhood was recruiting.  Back then, Sabertooth don' shit wit'out permission."

Darkling and Brightling were concentrating.

"We can get a trail," said Darkling. "But it stops dead.  Like a shield or something."

Shadow joined them.  "Indeed.  We cannot track within that area."

Darkling laughed.  "But we don't need to – the shield radius is a perfect circle."  
 "You really think they'd be that stupid?" asked Brightling.

"Quite possibly.  They'll be right in the centre, thinking the shield protects them from discovery."

Sword stood up.  "What are we waiting for?  Let's go!"

"We don't know how many there may be" cautioned Shadow.

"I don't care if there are a thousand."

Storm had woken up once on the way back, but Sabertooth had knocked her over the head again.  Much to the disgust of Wanda, who was checking her over.

"You do understand the meaning of 'in one piece', Sabertooth?  Because that's what my father asked for."  
Sabertooth shrugged.  "She's alive."

"Lucky for you – but there are better ways."  Wanda took out a syringe of sedative, gently injecting the contents into Storms arm.

"Doesn't look like fun to me."

"Just stick her in the cell, Victor.  You can have your fun later."

The Way looked up at the Brotherhood headquarters.

"Yep." said Darkling.  "That stupid."

Shadow frowned.  "Kurt, would it be possible for you to take some of us in there with you?"

"If you get me up to the wall, then Ja, I can probably take all of you.  Can't promise I'll be up to the return journey, though."

Indeed, Kurt collapsed once they were through the wall.  Rogue turned to him, checking he was okay, but they were immediately attacked.

Remy and Sword took on the giant form of what Rogue assumed was Sabertooth, while the telepaths battled against the others.  The man who must have been Magneto floated at a balcony at the far end of the room, hailing the members of the Way with twisted pieces of metal.

A plan began to form in Rogues mind.

"Kurt." she said, shaking him.

"Huh?"  His yellow eyes blinked open, focusing on her.  She took off her gloves.

"Kurt, I need to borrow your power for a bit."

He nodded, and clasped her hand.  She focused on taking power, and only power.  They'd tried this only once before – she'd accidentally 'bamfed' into the kitchen, causing no end of trouble.

But now anger for her friend rose in her mind, and it was no trouble at all.

Later on, she would remember the events in a haze.  Kurt's power flowing through her veins, she teleported just above Magneto, grabbing onto his bare skin with both hands, and holding on.

They'd stumbled together, and fell to the floor below, and she'd held on.

Gambit was hit by a blast from the woman who fought against them, and returned fire, while Sword concentrated on Sabertooth.

And she held on.

Darkling and Brightling sent out waves of fear which caused most of the Brotherhood to flee.

And she held on.

The woman finally turned and ran, and Gambit turned back to Sabertooth, only to be thrown against a wall.

And she held on.

The telepaths tried desperately to hold back Sabertooth, as Swords energy field began to flicker and die.

And she held on.

Sabertooth advanced on Sword.

And she let go, having taken all that she could, sending the metal flying through the room with her new power, catching the monster off guard.

And Sword focused all of his energy into one last fiery blade, and destroyed him.

A hand clutched at her leg.

"Give it back."

She stared at the white haired man whose power she had just stolen, tears running down his face.

"Give it back."

"No."

"Why?"

The mind-voice of Shadow rumbled through the room, and she knew he heard it as well as she did.

"Because it is not enough just to destroy the weapon, Magneto.  The hand that wields it must also be punished."

It was Brightling who felt the presence of the other mind, still within the building.

Rogues new power tore aside the bars, and Remy gathered the white-haired woman in his arms.

They headed back to the safe-house, where Violet was just waking up.

"It's alright." said Sword  "It's over."

Violet turned her attention to their new guest, still unconscious on another bed.

She leaned out, stretching one hand over her head.

"Violet, are you sure you're well enough to do that?"

Violet looked up, glowing with a purple aura.  "I'm sure."

The girl coughed, and woke up.  Suddenly she sat up, startled.

"You are among friends" said Shadow.  "Do not fear."

"Where am I?"

"In a safe-house in New York.  What is your name?"

The white-haired woman looked confused.

"I… I don't remember."

A/N:  Well?  And for the record, Jean was only knocked out temporarily and came to before the ambulance got there.  She refused to go to hospital so she could go straight back to the mansion and tell the others that 'Ro had been kidnapped.  And yes, the power transfer between Rogue and Magneto will be permanent.  Why?  Because I want it to be.

Review, or the evil pixies will get you in your sleep. 


	7. Chapter 7 Searching

Disclaimer:  You'd think by now I wouldn't have to say it, but sadly, I don't own the X-Men or associated villains  (Although I did enjoy killing Sabretooth off).  I do own Sword, Violet, Shadow, the twins, and Carver (now officially a convenient plot device in two fics of mine)

Logan paced the floor outside Cerebro.  Red hadn't been able to tell them much – only that Sabertooth knocked her out, and when she woke up, someone had told her that the 'big crazy man' had ran away with her friend.

Now Xavier was searching for a sign of either of them, or other members of the Brotherhood.  He'd been in there for hours – pretty soon Wolverine was going to give up on the telepath method of finding people, and return to his personal favorite, the 'beating the shit out of people' method of finding people.

He growled under his breath, and punched the wall for the twentieth time that hour.  A large dent was developing in the smooth metal.  Every time Summers came out to check on him he pursed his lips in disapproval at that antic; but either Red had told him to behave or he had some kind of survival instinct, because he hadn't mentioned it yet.

Xavier emerged from Cerebro, already shaking his head.

"I'm sorry.  Magneto has some kind of shield – I cannot locate Storm, nor any member of the Brotherhood."

"It's been eight hours, Chuck, and all ya can tell me is 'I'm sorry'?"

"Logan…"  
  


"Forget it.  I'm gonna go see what info I can dig up."

Xavier sighed, as Wolverine stormed out.

Two hours later, Logan was thoroughly pissed.  He'd been to the Freak-House, and several other disreputable bars, both mutant, and those who just didn't care.  He'd checked half the safe houses in New York.  No one knew anything, had seen anything, or heard anything.

He turned out of the parking lot of the 'BullDog', a tumbledown bar whose owner was famous for knowing things he, (or anyone else) shouldn't really know.  But this time he'd just shrugged, even when faced with first, a bribe, and second, a set of adamantium claws.

There was another safe house just a couple of streets up, he knew.  Not that he'd had any luck with them so far – most of the operators of mutant safe houses tended to be close-mouthed by nature – but you never knew.

Just then an expensive car pulled up in front of his bike, Summers at the wheel.

"You need to come back to the mansion."

"I need to find 'Ro, Cyke."

"Magneto turned up at the mansion."

"What?!"

"Some group apparently managed to trash the Brotherhood.  They're the ones who have 'Ro now."

Growling under his breath, Logan turned the bike around and followed Summers back to the mansion – although perhaps 'raced' would be a better term.

If he'd looked behind him, he might have seen a battered old van with Pennsylvania license plates, turning out of the side street where the safe-house was, and heading up towards the freeway.

Inside, Remy LeBeau tried to find a position that would minimize the pain from his bruises and cuts and still allow him to gaze upon the sleeping form of the unknown woman; perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  Shadow was driving, and Kurt was asleep on Rogue's lap: Rogue and Violet, leaning against Sword, were exchanging amused glances over Remy's rather obvious infatuation.

_~Don' worry, Chere.__  Remy keep y' safe.~_

Magnetos mind was a wreck; Xavier had finally agreed to Jean's idea of a mild sedative; asleep, they could at least get some sense out of him, unethical as it may have been.

What he saw puzzled and worried him.  A group had attacked the Brotherhood, with unknown motives.  Sabretooth was dead.  But more importantly (Xavier couldn't pretend to himself that the death of Victor Creed filled him with great sadness), was the memory Magneto had of this young girl; a girl who, with a touch, had managed to defeat one of the most powerful and dangerous mutants in the world.

Such as power, if misused, could be a disaster.  Xavier shuddered to think what such a child might be capable of, if she was led down the wrong path.

Just another reason why they had to find Storm, and the people who had her, as soon as possible.

A/N: I know, a bit short.  Want more?


	8. Chapter 8 Smoke and Mirrors

Disclaimer: Shadow, the twins, Sword, and Violet are mine (mine!  all mine, I say!).  The X-Men belong to Marvel – I do not own them and probably never will.

A/N: Yes, I'm finally getting round to the Ororo/Remy section.

She awoke again, to find herself lying on a bed.  Her body no longer hurt; but there was still that empty hole in her mind, the one where she knew memories should be.

A petite blond woman, huge purple eyes in her doll-like face, leaned over he.

"Oh!  You're awake!"

She stretched a hand out; it began to glow purple, followed by the rest of her.  A mutant.  She was also a mutant, although she wasn't sure how she knew this.  And people didn't like mutants very much.

"Well, you seem fine, physically, at least.  Do you remember anything yet?"

She shook her head.

"You're going to have to choose something for us to call you."  The blonde woman leaned forward.  "You have such pretty hair, you know.  Hey, since I'm Violet, why don't you be Silver.'

Silver shrugged.  "I suppose."  Her voice cracked, like she was out of practice.

So now she had a name, and, as Violet led her down the stairs, she found she had a lot of friends, apparently.  The leader was a tall dark-skinned man with eyes that looked right through you, and whose footsteps made no sound – his name was Shadow.  The twins who looked like statues, Violet's husband, Sword, and then; last of all, a lean, handsome man with the most incredible eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.

He introduced himself as Remy LeBeau, kissing her hand with a flourish.  The others laughed, and she wondered if they'd seen her blush; then she realized they were teasing him for his flamboyance.

"There are a couple others not here." said Violet.  She turned to her friends.  "Where are Kurt and Rogue?"

Sword inclined his head out towards the fields, where a distant argument could be heard.

"Perhaps it would be better if Silver met them a little later."

"So, Chere, y' been given the big tour yet?"

"Actually, I was planning on showing her around." said Violet, but as she stepped forward, she stumbled, clutching her stomach, and was caught by Sword.

"Unless you were planning to start and finish the tour at our bedroom, Vi, you better let Gambit do the honors.  Behave, Thief."

With that, he carried his wife upstairs.

Smiling, Remy looped his arm through hers.

"Remy t'ink we start with de kitchen, petite.  Y' too skinny for his liking."

Silver just laughed and hit him.  Yeah, she thought she would like it here.

Rogue stormed away from Kurt, but he kept following her.  Didn't he understand that the discussion was already over?

"Liebling, we still need to talk."

"There's nothing ta talk about, Kurt.  Ahm gonna do mah exercises, and your gonna go away."

Suddenly he bamfed right in front of her, angrier than she'd ever seen him.

"How about the fact that yesterday you touched an enemy, skin to skin, for longer than you've ever let yourself touch me.  Perhaps that is something to talk about, ja?"

"That was different."

"How?  You didn't kill him.  You kept control, Rogue.  And you told me just taking power was harder than taking nothing at all."

"It was different, because Ah don't love Magneto!  Ah could hurt ya, or worse!"

"Mein Rogue, I trust you.  And if there were an accident – I would forgive you.  But I will not see you live like this, never trusting yourself."

She shook her head. "It isn't that simple."

"Well, make it that simple!"  He placed one of his hands on her bare cheek, but she flinched away.

"Don't."

"Don't what, Liebling?  If you're going to tell me not to love you, you're a little too late."

His tone was biting, sarcastic, but there were tears running down his face to mirror her own.

"Kurt…"

But he was already gone.

Down in the gym, Logan worked away at an already well abused punching bag.

Repetitive actions helped keep the beast locked away.  Unfortunately, they didn't do anything against annoying mutants with hero complexes.

"Kitty's on the computer, looking for any weather anomalies.  And Xavier's back in Cerebro.  We've got everyone working on this, Wolverine."

"Good fer you."

Cyclops sighed, turning to go.  "Is there anything you need?"

*snikt*  The punching bag landed in pieces on the floor.

"Fer you ta get outta my way."

The bike roared, and he growled in anticipation of the hunt.  

He would get her back himself, no help needed from the kiddies, and any man who stood in his way would be dead.

The tour ended out in the little gardens behind the house.  Silver looked quizzically at her tour guide when he reached for his sunglasses before going outside.

"Remy's eyes not so good in de light." he explained.

She looked around the garden, settling herself down on  a small bench.  "No roses." she noted.

"Y' like roses?"

Remy's answer was a *bamf*, and a furious looking figure stalked inside from the cloud of smoke.

"An' dat was Kurt.  Remy t'ink today _really not a good day to talk t' 'im.  Mebbe later."_

Kurt.  Kurt and Rogue.  "Why was he so upset?"

"Don' know, but Remy can guess.  Rogue 'n Kurt, dey complicated.  Not Remy's story t' tell."

Silver nodded.  "Then tell me something about yourself."

"What y' want t' know, Chere?"

"Why did Sword call you 'Thief'?"

He laughed.  "Because Remy is a t'ief.  Best t'ief in Nawlins!"

"And modest too!" replied Silver, jokingly.  "So why are you out here?"  She gestured in the general direction of the miles and miles of fields and farmland spread out in front of them.

"Dat another complicated story."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Non, Chere.  Remy tell y' anything y' want to know."  He sighed, gazing out across the  empty fields.  

"It wasn't jus' because Remy a mutant.  Non, da T'ieves Guild t'ink someone who can do dis – " and he tossed a charged card up in the air, where it exploded.  "- t' a safe door is jus' fine by dem.  But one day, Remy lean against a table and *boom*." He shrugged.  "After dat, seem like no more control.  Some days no problem.  Some days Remy scared to put 'is hands in 'is pockets in case de loose change blow up.  Some days don' even touch anyt'ing, and still…"

He waved his hands vaguely.  "Bad t'ings.  Everyt'ing going crazy.  Den, dis fellow Doctor Essex, he say he can help Remy.  Dis homme, he give Remy dis bad feeling.  Tell 'im wait a day, let Remy sleep on it, non?"

"What happened?"

"By dat time, Remy have so many problems, he t'ink, why not?  But de twins," he paused. "De twins know dis Essex.  He do somet'ing to dem, link them, oui?  Remy not sure.  Anyway, dey tell Remy, Essex bad news, better off coming wit' us."

He laughed.  "Darkling, he not leave Remy much choice.  Pretty determined Remy coming back here wit' dem, one way or another."

Silver's eyes widened.  "You mean he…"

"Non.  It not come t' dat.  Remy t'ink, he gotta do somet'ing.  Dis seemed better dan de Doctor."

"So Shadow helped you get control?"

"Y' see anyt'ing blow up around here yet?"

"Then why didn't you go back, afterwards?"

Remy shrugged, his eyes unreadable behind the glasses.

"Don' know.  Jus' never got round t' it."

There was a moments silence.

"Besides," he added.  "If Remy go back t' Nawlins, Chere would be deprived of his company, non?  An' dat would be a great tragedy!"

"So," said Silver, "Are you planning to steal anything from me?"

A smirk spread across his face.  "Mebbe a kiss, Chere?"

"Maybe later." she replied.  "Right now, I'm starving."

And out in the fields, a lone figure continued her work.

_Control is part of the way, Strength is Part of the way, Power is part of the way, Love is part of the way, Love is part of the Way, Love is part of the Way._

Tears streaked down her face, but she struggled to continue.

_Damn it all, Kurt.  Why'd ya have to fall in love with me?_

A/N: Next up, 'Silver' and Remy get closer, Kurt and Rogue struggle to cope, and Jean figures some things out.


	9. Chapter 9 Storm

Disclaimer:  If you think I own them, you're more delusional than I am.

A/N:  Review; it's a magical word.  And frankly, I'm not too proud to beg.  Pleassseee!

The winter had been dry, and today there was a patch of sun.  Silver sat out in the garden, basking in the little heat it provided.  

She looked out into the fields and frowned.  There she was again.  She hadn't gotten to know Rogue very well in the few weeks she'd been here; Rogue had been in and out of the house, more out than in, her and Kurt swinging between ignoring each other and all out war.

She'd got to know the basics of the story, and had nothing but sympathy for the young couple.  Much of what she'd heard came from Violet, now Sword was actually allowing her to stand up and walk around; the healer was a sweet, sweet, woman, but a terrible gossip.

She brushed her hand across the top of the long grass that seemed to be engulfing the garden.  She was looking forward to spring; Sword had apparently long ago staked out this area as his territory, but Violet made him promise that Silver would at least be able to help.  Funny, she'd thought that Violet would be the gardener, she seemed the homey type.  Then again, she couldn't cook, either; Brightling and Remy did most of the 'kitchen work' - although Kurt was rumored to make fantastic pancakes, she hadn't had the chance to taste them yet.

Hell, she'd hardly had the chance to talk to Kurt; according to Violet, since the big fight, no-one had gotten much conversation out of him but Rogue – although the screaming matches they conducted with some regularity weren't really conversation.

"What are y' t'inking about?"

She decided on the diplomatic answer to that question.  "I wish Spring would come."

"If Spring will not come here, Chere, den we must go t' it."

"What nonsense are you talking now, Cajun?"

He led her round the back of the old farm-house; curious, she allowed herself to be dragged round the corner.  There, sitting in an otherwise barren patch of ground, a little clump of flowers grew, a few daisies and some buttercups, golden in the sunlight.  A smile lit up her face, and she knelt to take a closer look.

"Beautiful." she breathed.

"Indeed." replied Remy, but he wasn't looking at the flowers.  Before she knew what was happening, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Remy thought he could die now and be a happy man.  So engrossed was he in the feel of her lips, he completely missed the sound of thunder, rolling overhead, and the sudden darkening of the sky with rainclouds.

All too quickly, the kiss was over as she pushed him away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Uh, stealing kisses?"

From the look on her face, his famous Cajun Charm wasn't helping him now.

"I can't believe you tried to pull such a cheap trick on me!"

Then he saw her eyes.

"Chere…"

"I thought we were friends, Gambit.  I thought you respected me, that I could trust you!"

"Chere, y' eyes…"

You wouldn't last long on the streets of Nawlins without knowing when it was time to run.  Remy ran.

And then the rain started.

Violet peeked out the bedroom curtains, and grinned.

"What is it?" asked Sword

"Remy just helped Silver find out what her powers are." she replied, eyes twinkling.

He got up off the bed, wrapping his arms around her as he took a look.

Even through the rain, the figure of Remy was quite visible, chased by the swooping, darting, form of Silver.

"Think we should help him?" asked Violet.

"Nah.  He probably did something to deserve it.  She won't hurt him – much."

"You're taking the risk of having to listen to him whining about his bruises for the next week."

Sword shrugged, lifting her up easily and placing her back on the bed.  "I'll deal."

And from up in the attic, a pair of golden eyes watched the lone figure of Rogue as she continued her exercises, ignoring the rain.  If anyone had been watching from the outside, they would have seen fingertips touch the rain-streaked window, briefly, longingly.  If they'd had very good hearing, they might have heard, through the howling wind, something muttered in German – perhaps a prayer, or a curse.  They might have also heard the sound of tears falling in time with the rain, the sound of a very private grief held back for far too long.

Darkling was not watching; but he did have very good hearing.

_~What is it?~ asked Brightling, in the way she only did when they were alone._

He hated to lie to her, block his thoughts from her; but whatever else people might think about him, he did have some morals.

_~Nothing~_

Wolverine hadn't been spending much time at the mansion – he'd come back every couple of days, covered in dirt and sweat and quite often blood, his own or someone else's, Jean could never guess.  He'd stomp in, demand to know if they'd found anything – to which question the answer so far had been no – growl, destroy something, and leave again.

Frankly, she was kind of getting sick of it.  Actually, she was getting sick of the whole thing.  A group of mutants powerful enough to defeat the Brotherhood couldn't have come out of thin air, and then disappeared again.  Yet no-one seemed to know who they were.

Her best friend did not just _disappear on her without leaving a trace.  Jean growled in a passable imitation of Logan, glaring at the pile of 'Jane Doe' hospital records Kitty had pulled up for her.  She'd been searching through the damn things for hours; no luck yet._

Suddenly, something clicked.  When the ambulance crew had roused her, there had been another woman.  She'd rushed over to see if it was 'Ro; instead it had been a small blonde woman, whose husband had practically shoved her aside to get to her.  At the time she'd thought – innocent bystander.  But now…

Kitty looked up as she entered the computer labs.

"There's an unusual rainstorm in central Pennsylvania.  Blew up out of nowhere.  Covers a pretty big area though."

Jean nodded.  "That's a good start, at least.  I've got another lead.  There was another woman attacked by Sabretooth – she was taken to hospital shortly after 'Ro was kidnapped.  Can you find her?"

A few taps.  "Nearest hospital to the mall is Saint Lukes, right?  Give me a few minutes, I'll see what I can find."

Just then, the now familiar roar of the bike could be heard.  She met Scott on the way to the door.

"Another visit from the charming Logan?"

"At least this time we might have something to tell him."

"Really?"

"Kitty's working on it."

"Kitty's working on what?"  Logan asked, coming in through the door.

Frankly, he looked like death warmed over.  Even a healing factor obviously couldn't compensate for little food and next to no sleep.

"I'll tell you if you promise to eat something – sitting down, for once."

"Yes, Mom." he grumbled, but followed her into the kitchen anyway.

"A storm just turned up out of nowhere in Pennsylvania.  Got any theories as to why that might have happened?"

"Save me the sarcasm, Red.  Where is she, and how long before we find out."

Jean shrugged.  "The storm just gives us a general area.  I've also got Kitty working on finding a woman who was attacked by Sabretooth that day, taken to hospital."

Logan snorted.  "Sabretooth's an area-effect weapon, Jeannie.  The girls probably just some ditz who got in the way."

Kitty entered the room – through the back wall – carrying yet another pile of papers.

"Thirty-two urgent cases admitted to St Lukes for the two hours after you were attacked.  You know what you're looking for?"

"Small blonde woman, picked up from the mall, address in PA, if we've any luck."

She was the fifth one down in Scott's pile.

"Violet Elizabeth Sword" he read out.  "Admitted with a variety of injuries – cuts, bruises, head wound – address in Pennsylvania."

He flipped a page, and frowned.  "Oh."

"What?" asked Jean

"I think we have a motive."  He handed the report to her.

She read it out: "Three months pregnant; miscarried, probably due to blow to lower abdomen."

The address was rural; nowhere she recognized.

"Kitty, can you find out where this address is?"

Wolverine had that look in his eyes, she realized; the one he got before he was about to destroy something or someone.

"Logan?"

A grunt was her reply.

"I would like a promise that you won't kill anyone."

"I'm not promising anything, Red.  Anyone who tries ta keep me from 'Ro is dead."

She swooped into the sky, reveling in the chase, feeling the powers of nature at her command.  She felt whole.  Her target dodged in front of her, but not quickly enough.  He ended up flat on his back in the mud, her hands on his wrists.  Funny, he didn't seem inclined to try and escape.

He grinned up at her and her anger fled.  "Next time," she warned him.  "ask first."

"May Remy kiss y', Chere?"

"No."

He pouted, playing the game.

"But I'm going to kiss you."

The thunder stopped, but the gentle rain continued all night.

Darkling looked down at his sister, her head leaning against his shoulder as she read one of her truly crappy romance novels.

_~And what are you smiling about, sister?~_

~_Nothing.  You're not the only one who keeps secrets~_


	10. Chapter 10 Pancakes

Disclaimer:  Last time I checked, I don't own the X-Men.  Hang on, let me check again… Nope, still don't.  However, I do own Shadow, the twins, Violet, Sword and Carver (yay me!)

Silver's eyes flickered open as the smell of pancakes wafted in through the door.

"Morning, Chere."

Remy carried a tray piled high to the brim with pancakes.

"Is this a peace offering?"

"Dis, Stormy, is Kurt's secret pancake recipe.  One stack blueberry, one stack chocolate chip."

"What did you call me?"

"Stormy."  He grinned, and his eyes danced with mischief.  "After last nights show, Remy figure it suits y'.  Y' want de blueberry or de chocolate?"

"Do not call me Stormy." she said, snatching the plate of blueberry pancakes.

"Y' don' want chocolate?" asked Remy, apparently amazed.

"Chocolate is not a breakfast food." she replied haughtily, digging into the – truly wonderful – blueberry pancakes.

He just grinned in return, already halfway through his own pile.  A smear of chocolate rested at the corner of his mouth and she had the sudden urge to kiss it away.

"Y' sure y' don' want a taste?"

A sudden gust of wind blew the door shut.  Downstairs, Brightling paused with a forkful of pancake halfway to her mouth, and smiled.  Darkling just rolled his eyes.

Charles Xavier was convinced he was going to die.  All those years spent fighting for his dream, and he was going to die in a car crash.  How ignoble.

All this would never have happened if they hadn't let Logan drive.  It had taken a little while to convince him that taking the jet wasn't just a _little too obvious.  Xavier's stomach, though, was wishing they had just taken the jet.  Might have been a lot easier._

His head was wishing that Logan, or Scott, or preferably both of them, would just shut up.  It didn't help matters that they'd been driving around in circles for what seemed like hours now, unable to find the right turn.

"Where the hell did you learn to drive, Logan?"

"Don't remember, kid.  Maybe if ya would shut up and let me concentrate…"

"Could that be it?" asked Jean, as a small road became visible on the left.

"Maybe." said Logan.

But as they got closer, all four of them had the same thought.

"Nah.  That's not it."

The car lurched and swerved onwards.

"Jesus, Logan, are you trying to kill us all?"

"If I was trying that, bub, you'd be the first ta go."

Charles Xavier just sighed.  He felt a migraine coming on.

Violet brought a stack of dishes into the kitchen.  Kurt was staring out the window – she didn't have to look to know what, or rather who, he was looking at.

"I saved a few." she said, holding out a plate.  "Sword and Darkling were fighting over who got what, and I snitched them while they weren't looking."

"Danke, but I'm not hungry."

"They're not for you." she replied, looking out over his shoulder.  "Why don't you go talk to her, take her some breakfast?"

"Your concern is welcome, Violet, but…"

"But nothing."  She shoved the plate into his hands and pushed him in the general direction of the back door.  "You love her, she loves you, the rest is just details."  
  


"Violet…"  
  


"Don't whine.  Now go, before I get angry!"

He smiled at her.  "Thank you."  Then he walked out the door, heading out towards Rogue.  All things considered, Violet thought, it was probably better that he didn't teleport.  Sulfur didn't really go with pancakes.

It was times like this that she really wished she had better hearing.  Not that she would gossip about it – much – but the truth was that Violet was a hopeless romantic.  Young love.  She smiled, thinking of when she'd first met Sword, more than five years ago…

Violet crept through the hospital.  She came here often do to her work – there were only a couple of nurses and doctors on duty during the night, and they made only a cursory check through the wards every hour or so.  She was seventeen, although so short, and skinny from living on the streets, that a casual observer might have put her age at closer to thirteen.

Then again, there's not really any such thing as a casual observer.

It was dangerous, she knew, to sneak in after visiting hours; but there were some things she needed more time to accomplish than the five or ten minutes she could snatch between visits from staff and family that occurred during the day.  And she'd promised this one girl that she would come back to help her.

She always healed kids nowadays – adults recognized her for a mutant; kids called her the 'Purple Fairy', and were happy for the help she could give.

The girl was asleep; so much for the better.  Violet could 'see' the crack across her spine; the result of a car accident – healing it, while possible, would be a lengthy task.  But worth it if the little one would walk again.  Eating from discarded hospital trays and trashcans; catching handfuls of sleep here and there, afraid of being caught – none of it mattered when her gift was flowing through her.

Her mother had said she was 'sinful', but Violet believed she was doing the work of God.

A noise somewhere behind her, and she looked around, but there was nothing but empty space.  Sometimes, these big old wards made you feel like there was always somebody watching.

Letting the glow surround her, she began her work.  The child stirred, but did not awaken.  Violet was concentrating on her work; so absorbed was she that she didn't hear the argument floating down the hallway – the head nurse yelling at a man who stomped towards the ward, heavy of foot and slurred of voice.

"Can't I see my own damn child whenever I want?  Goddamn hospitals.  I've got a right…"

"Visiting hours are over.  If you don't leave, I will call security!"

In fact, the first she knew of their arrival is when a fist slammed into her side, moving her away from the girl.  The man loomed in her face, reeking of alcohol and sweat.

"What the hell are you doing to my daughter, mutie?"

"I'm trying to help…" she tried to explain, but he wasn't listening.

"You mutants are everywhere these days.  Dirty scum, probably carry God knows what kinda diseases.  I'm not having you near my child!"

He pulled a knife and advanced.  The nurse was going to be no help; she'd retreated to the bedside of the daughter, obviously wanting to avoid any part in the confrontation.  Violet backed into a corner, eyes closed.  She hadn't finished her work, she could feel it.  Tears crept down her cheeks.  She'd promised.  She'd promised.

"Why don't you back off?"

The new voice came from right beside her, and looking up, she saw the face of James Sword.  He was one of the hospital cleaners, or so she'd thought.  He sometimes shared his lunch with her, and let her know where and when it was safe to do her healing.

Now he held a sword made of light, the tip just resting lightly under the drunken fathers chin.

The man had backed off, dropping his knife, and Sword scooped her up into his arms, carrying her away.  He hadn't understood why she was crying till much much later, and then, it was too late to go back.

She'd promised.

Sword stepped lightly into the kitchen, holding another stack of plates.

"What are you thinking about?"

She smiled, no sign of tears on her face.

"Young love."

He craned his neck, watching Kurt walk up towards Rogue.

  
 "So why don't we give 'young love' some privacy, hmm?  Besides, if you hang out here, you're going to miss the opportunity to tease Remy and Silver."

When they left the kitchen, however, the opportunity was already gone.  The door slammed behind the Way's newest pair of lovebirds, and Brightling hit Darkling, stealing a last scrap of pancake.

"Hey!" he said, more annoyed at the lost pancake than anything else.  He gestured in the general direction of the door.  

"Think it was something I said?"

Kurt saw Remy and Silver heading up towards the 'crest', a hill near the gate with a little hollow in the side which had made it a favorite hideout for, in turn, Violet and Sword, then himself and Rogue, and now, it seemed that their newest pair would be keeping up the tradition.

With a sigh, a brief muttered prayer, and a very tight grip on the plate of pancakes, he turned away from them and towards his lady love.

As always, even when deep in meditation, she knew of his approach, and turned her emerald gaze upon him.

"What d'ya want?"

Words, Wagner.  Those things that come out of your mouth.  Say something, instead of staring at her like a moon-struck fool.

After a slight pause, he found his voice.

"I brought breakfast.  Pancakes."

"Thank you."

He sat beside her while she ate; neither of them spoke.  He longed to just reach out and touch her, just wrap an arm around her, slip his hand into hers, perhaps brush his lips…

And these thoughts were _not helping._

But instead, he sat silently, watching her eat blueberry pancakes (the chocolate ones were long gone), and wondering what the hell he was going to do next.

"So" she said, putting the empty plate aside.  "Ah guess we do need ta talk."

Xavier called a halt, and Wolverine glared, but pulled over to the side of the road.

"Oh, very good." he whispered, almost to himself.  "Whoever you are, you're very subtle."

"What ta hell is it, Chuck?"

"There is a telepathic guard around that road we keep passing.  A simple little thing;  someone just slips the thought into any passing minds – that that road is not the one they are looking for."

Logan growled.  "Telepaths.  Might have guessed."

"I suggest we go back; Jean and I will try to break the guard, or at least counteract its effects."

Darkling frowned, turning his attention away from Gilligans Island.  Brightling was taking her usual post-pancake nap; slumped on the couch, half awake.

One side effect of Sinisters meddling – he didn't need to sleep (Gee, thanks, Doc.).  So he was the one who kept the barrier up, making sure the Way was kept safe.  Hidden.  And now, someone was trying to get through.  No need to alarm everyone, at least not yet, but he couldn't keep up the barrier and scan a couple of shielded minds at the same time.

_~Shadow.  We may have a problem.~_

Kurt reached out towards Rogue, but she snatched her hand away.

"Do ya still not understand?"

"Nein.  I understand.  I just don't think it's a good enough reason."

"Ah could kill you."

He shrugged.  "And a meteor could fall out of the sky and squash me flat."

"It's not ta same thing."

"Liebling, let me show you something."

He got to his feet, instinctively holding out his hand to help her up.  But she stood up, ignoring the outstretched hand, and he let it drop to his side, feeling a little foolish.  The familiar deep ache in his chest returned.

With Rogue trailing behind, he made his away across the fields.

"You know Carver used to live here?"

She nodded.  "Brightling mentioned it once, Ah think."

"Do you know why he left?"

She stepped up to his side, to view the simple headstones.  They said merely 'ANNA, BELOVED WIFE' and 'MICHAEL, BELOVED SON'.

"Carver's wife wasn't a mutant," began Kurt, "but she stayed with us anyway.  She was a sweet person."  He shrugged.  

"She was one of the first normal people not to scream and run when she met me."

  
Was it his imagination, or did Rogue move a fraction close to him?

"Their little boy was a mutant, ja.  Looked like his father, only green, and a little scaly.  One day, Carver's going a couple towns over doing a job – he used to do some repairs and so on – and Anna decides to take her son for a day out in the market over that way.  Carver drops them off, heads off to the job, comes back to pick them up a couple hours later."

"Ah take it it didn't work out like that."

"A couple of townspeople took offense at the green kid.  Beat them to death while the rest stood by and did nothing.  After we buried them, Carver left.  Hasn't been back through the gates since."

Tears brimmed in her eyes.  "That's a horrible story.  Ya trying to make me cry?"

"I'm trying to make you see that life is… unpredictable.  Things happen that are out of our control.  And lets face it, the world isn't all that safe for people like us nowadays."

"So ya want to try and get killed?"

Kurt turned and took her hands in his; she didn't pull away this time.

"I'm saying that some risks, they are worth taking."

She looked down at their hands intertwining; then she leaned forward and kissed him.

And then Remy went flying out from behind the crest and landed across the fields from them.

"Get Violet!" yelled Rogue, running towards the disturbance.

Kurt bamfed back to the house.  What the hell sort of trouble had Gambit got himself into now?

They'd managed to break through the shield and drove up the dirt road to a very ordinary looking farm.  Both Xavier and Jean were scanning for Storm, but couldn't seem to find her.

Wolverines nose, however, was not so easily fooled.

With a growl, he leapt out of the car, over a fence, and ran across the fields.

"Scott, go after him!" yelled Jean.

Logan ran through the fields, knowing her scent was just round the corner.  Another scent mingled with it; he didn't recognize it, or realize the significance of it's presence.

Until he rounded the corner of a small hill and saw Storm, kissing another man, the fingers of one hand twisted in his hair while the other hand slid around his waist and up his shirt.

Wolverine saw red.

Silver giggled, settling comfortably into the hollow while Remy whispered all kinds of ridiculous endearments in French and she made sure his hands stayed where they were supposed to.  But then he kissed her properly, and all of a sudden it was her hands that were wandering – not that he was complaining.

Then he was ripped away from her, and she backed away from the attacker; a strange, feral looking man who yet seemed vaguely familiar.

"Stay back!"

He looked almost as confused as she felt.  He took another step forward.

"'Ro?"

Another man she didn't know came running up behind the first.  She'd never been so happy to have Rogue appear by her side.

"Are ya alright, Sugah?"

The 'bamf' to her left would be Kurt – out of the corner of her eye she could she he had brought Violet to Remy's side.  From the house, Sword and the three telepaths ran towards them, Sword reaching her side first, in full battle mode.

"Wait!" called Shadow.  "Sword, Rogue, back down."

Sword let his weapon and armor disappear in a puff of smoke, Rogue relaxing out of the tense position she'd held, ready to spring for the enemy, deadly hands outstretched.

"There are no enemies here." Shadow continued.  "But we do need to talk."

Remy got back to his feet, having been given the all clear by Violet, and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.  She leant back into his comforting embrace; the feral man scowled at them both.

The second man placed a hand on his shoulder, saying something she couldn't quite hear in a low voice; the feral shrugged him off with a growl.

"Fine then." he said.  "We talk."

A/N: More coming soon!  Do you want Ororo to end up with Remy or Logan?  Vote now, or forever hold your peace!


	11. Chapter 11 Complicated

Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-Men, I just borrow them, do naughty things to them, and then put them back more or less where I found them.  I do own all the original characters (yay me!)

Kurt smiled to himself, a brief glint of fangs.  He was meant to be paying attention to the discussion going on before him, but he was admittedly preoccupied with the feel of Rogue's hand in his;  for the hundredth time in the past hour he said a quick mental prayer – Danke, Mein Gott – and hoped she wasn't planning on letting go any time soon.

Silver – or perhaps he should call her Ororo now, as that is what her real name apparently was – was curled up on Remy's lap – much to the obvious annoyance of the one who'd been introduced only as 'Wolverine'.  He could see that Sword and Rogue were both in fighting mode, a little tensed up, a little more aware than usual.  He wasn't too worried though; if Shadow and the twins said these people were friends, then they were friends.  The only problem would be if Remy and Wolverine got into a fight over Silver; and he could bamf Remy away if that happened – from what he'd seen, Ororo would be more than capable of putting her feral admirer in his place.

There was a great deal of talk going on between the telepaths;  Jean Gray and Professor Xavier brought the total up to five, six if you counted Violet, who seemed to be counting herself out, saying she'd be more of a hindrance than a help.

Ororo rested her head on Remy's shoulder; he met the eyes of his opponent with a grin, then placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.  It would have been sweet, if he hadn't been doing it mostly to piss the other man off.  From the low growl filling the room, it had worked.

Kurt tensed a little more, feeling Rogue squeeze his hand.  Did the Cajun have a death wish?  Wolverine was looking at Ororo with an expression he recognized; it was one he'd had on his own face often enough – that desperate longing for something he'd once had, far too briefly, and now had lost.

"Behave, Thief."  Sword looked and sounded amused, until you looked right into his eyes.  Then he just looked tense.  "I don't want Violet to have to wear herself out patching you up."

It was probably for the best that at that point, that the telepaths decided to adjourn to Shadows 'meditation' room, taking Silver with them.

"Don't let them kill each other." was Shadows parting remark.

The other fellow, the one who wasn't a telepath or lusting after Ororo – what was his name? – was left behind as well.

Kurt did a mental accounting of the occupants of the room.  Sword, Violet, himself, Rogue and – oh – Scott – to hold back Remy and Wolverine.  Pretty good odds, so he wasn't lacking in duty if he moved his chair right next to Rogues.

Violet was watching them, grinning like a fool; Sword gave him a nod and a smirk.

But none of that really mattered, because Rogues left hand had disengaged from his and was wandering around his waist, her eyes bright and smiling.

Glory and Hallelujah.

Ororo.  Her name was Ororo.  It had to be, because it was right there on what was apparently her drivers license.  Ororo N'Dare Monroe.  Or 'Ro for short, which was what Wolverine had called her.  She felt her stomach tighten at the thought of him.  At first he'd scared her, but something deeper down was stirring up other feelings.

Why did life have to be so complicated?

She let the smooth voice of Shadow guide her into their usual mediation – they'd done this several times, and every time there had been a wall in her mind – a wall she couldn't get around.  This time, however, there was the power of five minds behind hers; slowly, a crack appeared.  They'd try to do it slowly, came the thought from one of the others – they didn't want to rush her.

But the light flowed out through the crack and suddenly she was bombarded with images.  The wall crumbled, the light growing more intense.  The other minds were cast away, helpless, and she was left alone with a flood of memories.

Later, they'd tell her she screamed for a good five minutes continuously; that both Logan and Remy had to be held back; that Violet had rushed in to check on her and that the too-fast separation from her mind had given the twins head-aches for weeks.

All she remembered at the time was a few brief seconds of light; so bright she couldn't look at it, but neither could she look away or close her eyes – nothing helped.  Pain ripped through her, and then suddenly she was lying on the floor, looking up at this weird little stain on the ceiling, and she was Ororo Monroe again.

Remy and Logan both rushed to her side as she entered the room; at the sight of them, her head spun all over again.  Logan, Remy.  Remy, Logan.  What on earth was she going to do with the two of them?

Memories swum through her mind.  Being part of the X-Men.  Being part of the Way.  A heart to heart in the woods with Logan, finally seeing his guard all the way down; a chase across fields after Remy.  Girls nights out with Jean.  Girls nights in with Violet.  She belonged to two worlds now; how was she supposed to choose?

She pushed her two admirers away, found her voice.

"I… I have to go.  I have to get away.  I have some things to think about, some decisions to make, and I have to make them alone."

Her friends from both sides accepted that; half of them were telepaths, so she supposed they understood.  One by one, they embraced her, saying their goodbyes – for now, at least, as Rogue put it.

When it came to Logan and Remy though, she couldn't do it.  She couldn't hug them, put her arms around them.  Who would she go to first?  What could she say to either of them?

Jean pushed a bag into her hands.

"Money, credit cards, ID." Then she embraced her for a second time.  "Good luck, 'Ro."

Her two loves were still standing there, waiting; but she just backed out of the door, tears running down her face.

She wasn't sure where she was going, but when she got to the end of the driveway, there was a big rig waiting there, the driver vaguely familiar.  Then she remembered the old photo that sat up on the mantelpiece in the farmhouse.

"You need a lift?" Carver asked her.

"Where are you headed?"

He grinned.  "Away from here.  Suitable?"

"Sounds perfect."

She spent the next few hours pretending to doze; Carver was refusing to tell her how he knew to be waiting there, although she suspected it had something to do with Shadow, or maybe the twins.  So she was giving him the silent treatment; mainly, her mind was going round in circles.  Her two men; both of them she loved.  Both of them loved her.  But she had to pick a side; anything else wasn't fair.

Ororo sighed, looking out at the now setting sun.  How long had they been driving?  Did it matter?  She was a little hungry, but there was a deeper ache.  Two pieces of her heart were missing; and she knew she'd never be whole again.

A/N:  All reviews go to the Save the Pixies fund.  Please give generously.


	12. Chapter 12 The Third Path

Disclaimer:  Marvel owns X-Men, I own the OC's, and the pixies in my brain own themselves.

Kia Ora to Wahinetoa, fellow Kiwi (okay, so I'm only half), and rampant reviewer!  Here, have a pixie (squashes pixie between two large books, hands it to Wahinetoa).  Trust me, they're less trouble that way.

Ororo walked along the beach barefoot, watching the sunset.  It reminded her of another sunset she'd seen a few months back; that had been Florida, this was California, and she was no nearer to finding an answer than she had been when she'd left.  She plonked herself down on the sand in a most un-goddess like fashion; rain was beginning to fall, as it had every night, wherever she was.

There were days she wished she'd never even met Remy; there were days she wished the X-Men had never found her.  Storm, the X-Man, had loved Logan, with the quiet dignity that she was known for.  Silver, the more reckless daughter of the Way, had loved Remy with an abandon that still made her breathless to think of it.

  
And somewhere squeezed in the middle was plain old Ororo, and she still hadn't a clue.

Not for the first time over the last few months, she sent a formless prayer up into the air.

_~Bright Lady, send me guidance.  Help me.~_

But there was only the rain, mingling with her tears, for an answer.

Scott wrinkled his nose in distaste as he looked at the bar.  The door to the 'Freak-House' (how charming), was guarded by a giant of a man and a heavily tattooed woman wearing an obscene outfit composed of strips of well-placed black leather; both of them seemed to find the presence of himself and Jean on their doorstep fairly amusing.

"Are you lost, kiddies?" asked the tattooed one.

"We're looking for Wolverine." Scott replied.

Giant and Tattoo exchanged another amused look.

"Never heard of him.  Sorry."

"Oh, sure you have – _Ink." Jean's voice was lilting, but her eyes were cold.  Scott frowned – not at all like her to pluck information out of a mind like that._

"Canadian, grumpy, temper like a wounded bull with a red flag waved in front of it." She paused.  "Kinda cute, too."

Scott scowled at that sentiment.  He had been agreeing with the description up until that point.

Ink however, chuckled, gestured, and her oversized friend moved out of the way.

"He's by the bar, as if you couldn't guess."

As Jean passed by, she added "And if you ever tell him he's 'cute' to his face, I want the photos."

Scott knew that Logan didn't get drunk easily; however, it looked as if he was trying pretty hard.  Bottles and shot glasses surrounded him; despite the fact that the bar was incredibly crowded, there was a clear circle around him – one look at the bar stool to the left of him, slashed to pieces, gave you some idea why.

One of the bartenders beckoned them over, as Wolverine took another three shots of tequila, one after the other.

"Please tell me you've come to take him home!" she pleaded, indicating their friend with one out of six arms.  The others prepared drinks and took money, while she continued.

"Not that we don't appreciate the business, but there are going to be limits to the amount of furniture he destroys before the boss decides to throw him out; and when that happens, I was planning to be hiding in a corner; 'cause it's going to be messy."

Jean smiled.  "I think we can convince him to come back without too much bloodshed."

"Says who?" muttered Scott.

Wolverine took a break from his shots to scowl at them.

"Logan..." started Jean.  She received a one clawed salute for her troubles.  The clear circle around Wolverine widened.

Ever the optimist, she tried again.

"When Storm comes back – which she will – she's going to take one look at your drunken, unshaved, uncouth self and head right back down to Pennsylvania and her Cajun thief.  You're no good to her like this – in fact, you're no good to anybody like this."

"Nice speech, Red.  Now piss off."

"Don't make me hurt you, Logan."

"You think you could, Jeannie?"

Scott rolled his eyes, and shot Logan with a low-level energy beam.  Okay, so maybe it was overkill, but at least Wolverine was unconscious and not threatening Jean, and his healing factor would make sure there was no permanent damage.

Besides, it had been really, really, fun.

There was only one flaw in his plan, and that was that now, they were going to have to lug his metal-laced, heavy-ass body out to the car.  The second flaw was that when Logan woke up, he was going to be pretty pissed at Scott.  That came with an upside, though – maybe Wolverine would attack him, and Scott would then have an excuse to shoot him again.

Jean had given up on telling him off, and was convincing a few of the regulars to help them lug the sleeping Logan out to their car.

Maybe even if Logan didn't attack him, he could find some other reason to shoot him again.  It wasn't that he hated the man, there was just something fundamentally satisfying about giving him a concussion.

"Scott!  Are you coming, or not?"

Scott Summers sighed, grabbed a leg, and helped cart Wolverine out of the bar.

Remy woke up with a start, glancing at his battered clock.  4:13.  The house was fairly quiet, except for the faint rhythmic banging and murmurs of affectionate German that could only mean that Kurt and Rogue were at it again.  Darkling always complained about Violet being 'loud' – telepathically, that was, because Remy had never heard anything from them (Thank God for small mercies). – but in his opinion their two attic dwellers took the cake.

He lay on his front and put his pillow over his head, but he could _still hear them.  _

"Merde." he said softly, pulling on a pair of jeans and slipping out the window.

He hadn't slept a full night since she'd left; and that couldn't be blamed on Fuzzy Elf's night-time activities.

Remy let his feet wander, thinking.  Sure, in Nawlins he'd had his share of petites – and he'd not cared a bit about any of them.  He'd _liked Belle, and the rest, for the most part, had just been conquests, but he'd never been in love before._

There had never been a woman he'd found more difficult to judge – one minute he thought she was going to zap him, the next, she was kissing him… those kisses!  He sighed.  As usual, his traitorous legs had brought him to the little hollow in the crest; he sat down, stretching out his legs before him and closing his eyes.

He hadn't seen the other man coming, hadn't heard him.  He'd been too wrapped up in the taste of her, the feel of her lips on his, the caress of her delicate hands.  For a few precious moments he'd forgotten everything he was – all his sins washed away, every particle of doubt, fear, self-loathing, gone.

And then he was ripped away from her.

His shoulders slumped.  Who was he trying to kid, anyway.  She'd be heading back up north to the X-Men and her scowling boyfriend – perhaps she was already there.  He'd never have that love back again – he hadn't deserved it in the first place.

As usual, his wandering steps took him back up to what had been her room; as usual, he reached under the mattress, pulled out the thin blade.  The sharp point trailed over his wrist, but he didn't break the skin.

Instead, like he did every night, he hid the knife again, crawled into the bed, and fell back into a fitful sleep.

Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe tomorrow he'd be strong enough to end it.

"Do you want your fortune told?"

"No thank you" replied Ororo, not even looking as she continued down the street.  There were usually street hawkers in this area, and she'd learnt to just ignore them.

"You see two paths in front of you, child, and you do not know which to take."

She spun around, staring at the old woman.  She seemed to be blind; yet she focused directly on Storm.

"There is another path that you can take.  It is not about love, it is about where you belong."

"Irene!"

A pretty brunette woman rushed up, taking the old woman by the hand.

"I'm very sorry." she said to Ororo.  "Irene, you know you aren't supposed to wander off like that.  You gave me quite a fright!"

"Oh hush, Raven.  There was no harm done."

"I've told you before, don't call me that!"  She smiled and nodded at Ororo, leading the old woman off.

_~Where I belong~_

The thought wandered around in her mind; it was not till much later in the day that it suddenly hit her.

"A third path."

"Excuse me, lady?"

She realized she'd spoken out loud, and smiled sheepishly.

"Nothing.  Could I have that to go?"

She laughed to herself as she left.  She'd been enlightened – while ordering frozen coffee at Starbucks.

Whoever was looking out for her sure had a strange sense of humor.

That night, as she stopped to rest at a little motel in the middle of nowhere, it didn't rain.

A/N:  Drum roll…….  he he he.  The pixies are refusing to let me give you any hints about who it's going to be, so sorry.  But you'll find out next chapter, I promise!


	13. Chapter 13 The Choice

Disclaimer:  Not mine, except for the original characters, which are mine.  All mine, I say! (Although personally, I'd rather own Logan.  Or at least Hugh Jackman g)

A/N:  Hugs and kisses to everyone who reviewed!  The people have spoken…

Storm sighed, looking at the mansion.  Right.  She was going to go in now.  Right now.

There was a silent pause.

She finally convinced her stubborn legs to obey her, slowly she walked up the stairs.  She was met with a hug from Jean.

"It's so wonderful to see you!"

Ororo smiled, and shrugged.

"I'm an X-Man, Jean.  I'll never be anything else."

Logan rushed in, hugged her before she could protest.  Oh Goddess, this was going to be so hard.

"Logan." she said gently, pushing him away.  "I belong with the X-Men, but I also can't ignore what I have with Remy.  I know it's going to be difficult…"

"No, darling." he said bitterly.  "I'm going to make it really easy fer ya."

He stomped back up the stairs.  Storm sighed and followed him.

Inside his room he was quickly shoving a few items into a bag; he didn't have much to pack.

"Logan." 

"There's nothing fer ya to say, 'Ro."

"Please, just…"

He whipped around, pushing her up against the door.

"Look, darling.  I love ya.  I want ya to be happy.  But I can't be around ya right now, and I certainly can't be near the Cajun or I'll gut 'im."

She hugged him, and he dipped his face into the nook of her shoulder, inhaling her scent.

"Be happy, 'Ro."

Ororo nodded, and he slung the bag over his shoulder.  Taking one last look at her, he disappeared.

Hearing the roar of the bike, she sighed, then picked up the phone.  She had a call to make.

"Hey, Tall, Dark, and Silent." quipped Ink, peering into the distance.  "You might want to move."

_~Way ahead of you, Ink.~_

She grinned, seeing that he'd opened the door, allowing a pissed-off Logan to barrel through the entrance without comment.

"Aw, sometimes I forget.  Never try to outguess a telepath."

_~Tele-empath~ he replied.  She felt the familiar warm glow that meant Tower was working his particular brand of magic, and shook a finger at her lover._

"That's cheating."

_~I just asked Switchblade and Panic to cover our shift tonight.  They ought to be here in ten minutes~_

Her grin widened.  "In which case you are forgiven."

They both peered round the entrance to see what Logan was doing.  Ink moved her head back just as three claws swiped through the side of the door, as Boss stomped up behind.  So she'd finally thrown him out, although he'd retained a bottle of tequila.

Ink took a look at the tall woman they knew only as the Boss, who was looking normal and innocent, and reminded herself _again not ever to ask what it was she actually __did.  Anything that could send Logan away from a bar, his natural habitat…_

_~Trust me, love.  You don't want to know~_

"Gutentag, Storm" said Kurt when the phone picked up.

She smiled. It was good to hear his voice again.

"And to you, Kurt.  Brightling showing off again?"

Ororo could hear muffled protests in the background.

"Ja, a little." There was a cry of "Liar!" from somewhere on the other end of the phone.  

"Don't leave Violet in suspense, fraulein.  If she doesn't hear some gossip from you in the next ten seconds she might explode."

"I rang to tell you that I'll be there probably late tonight; tell Darkling to remember not to shut me out."

"You're choosing Remy?"

"Yes, Kurt.  Don't question my sanity now."

"Vas?  I would never… alright, maybe I would, just a little."

She chuckled.  Now in the background there were screams and laughter as the news was obviously spreading.  There were the sounds of a scuffle, and then Violet came on the line.

"Oh.  My.  God.  I'm so happy for you.  And we've got news too, but now we'll wait till you get here to tell everyone, and – oh, we should have a party; ooh, maybe a barbeque.  It's going to do Remy such a world of good; he'll be feeling better in no time and…"

"Violet?" interrupted Storm.

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean 'feeling better in no time'?  Is there something wrong with him?  Can I talk to him?"

There was a pause.

"Storm." came the calm voice of Shadow, "Remy is sleeping.  Since you left…"  He sounded tired, resigned almost.

Ororo felt her heart leap into her throat.  "What did he do?"

"You know our Cajun.  He likes… dramatic gestures.  It was nothing that Violet couldn't heal…"

"Oh Goddess.  I'm going to be there sooner than soon.  I'll leave right now…"

"That would be good." replied Shadow.  "You might want to be prepared; he hasn't been eating well…"

There was another scuffle.

"Oh for Gods sake." said Darkling.  "Storm, he looks like hell warmed over, he's been acting like an idiot for eight months, so what do you expect?  Come here and fix him, because when he's better I'll finally be able to give him the beating he deserves for scaring us all."

Despite herself, Storm smiled at his rant.  "I'll be there very soon, Darkling."

"Good.  Now shut up, and go pack."

There were hugs when she got there, but they were slightly subdued.  (Other than Violet, who couldn't have been subdued if she tried.)

Bearing a bowl of chicken soup (a gift from Kurt, who'd apparently expanded his cooking repertoire since she'd left), and accompanied by Shadow, she walked up to the room that used to be hers.

She didn't know what to say, when she saw him.  He wore only jeans, and his ribs were perfectly visible; the thin white lines across each wrist were testament to Violets still-imperfect healing techniques.

Ororo sat down on the bed, pulling him up so his head rested on her lap – he seemed to weigh nothing.

Shadow just touched one finger to Remy's forehead, then nodded at Ororo and left, concern still shadowing his eyes.

A few seconds after the door closed behind Shadow, his eyes fluttered open.

Remy awoke a little confused, his sight still fuzzy.  Slowly, he brought one hand to feel the other wrist, grimacing at the feel of the light scar.  Violet.  Couldn't they leave well enough alone?

Then he realized someone was holding him, looked up, and forced himself to focus.  Tears came and blurred his vision once more.

Wasn't it enough that he thought of her every waking second of every day, that he dreamt of her almost every night?  Did he have to hallucinate as well?

"Remy?" the apparition whispered, brushing away the tears that threatened to become a flood.  God, it even felt real.

"Non." he murmured, trying to get away. 

"You're not Remy?" replied his love.

"Y' aint Stormy.  Dis aint real." he said, closing his eyes resignedly.

Suddenly he was flat on his back, and she was straddling him, pinning both wrists above his head with one hand.

He gasped, remembering that night.  It had taken forever to get all the mud off, but he hadn't cared…

Remy yelped as she tweaked his nipple with her free hand.

"See?  Real.  And don't call me Stormy!"

And then she kissed him.

At some point his wrists had been released – perhaps she'd realized that he couldn't move, even if he'd wanted to.  The kiss was gentle – almost too gentle, as if she was afraid she'd hurt him – and over far too soon.

He protested, but she pulled him up into a sitting position, poking his ribs.

"You're skin and bones, Remy.  When was the last time you ate?"

He shrugged.  "Violet made Remy eat somet'ing couple days ago."  He examined his wrists again.  "It - it didn't stay down."

She handed him a bowl of soup.  "Well you can eat this."

One look at her face told him that there would be no arguing this time.  And once he started on it, he realized he was actually quite hungry.  Starving, even.

Storm smiled a bright smiled when he finished the bowl.

"D' Remy get a prize?  He finish it all."

She grinned, and nodded, then swiftly relieved him of the empty bowl and spoon.

Downstairs, Darkling and Brightling both smiled widely.

_~So what happened to respect for others privacy, Sister?~_

_~Oh shut up.  I'm trying to listen!~_

There was a polite cough, and Shadow fixed them both with a stare and one raised eyebrow.

"Just checking to make sure they were okay?" suggested Darkling.

There was a muffled snort from the couch containing Sword and Violet.

"And are they?" asked Shadow.

"Yeah." he replied, turning his attention back to the movie – not half as interesting as what was going on upstairs, but oh well.

"They're going to be just fine."

A/N:  Nope, not over yet!  Coming up: more Ororo/Remy cuteness, Sword and Violet's big news, Logan's running around Canada and oh dear, just when Kurt and Rogue were doing so well…  Reviews – better than chocolate (well, better than American chocolate, at least g).


	14. Chapter 14 Mein Rogue

Disclaimer:  I do not own the X-Men.  I do own the original characters, ooh, and the Freak-house, not that Ink would ever let me through the door g.

The next day, Storm managed to get out of bed by noon, her and Remy joining the rest of the Way for lunch.  She'd already spoken to Shadow, after Remy drifted into a natural sleep, explaining her wish to return to the X-Men with Remy when he got better – he'd basically given her his blessing.  Funny, she hadn't realized she'd been wanting it until it was given – then she was glad.  Shadow, like the rest of the Way, was her friend, and his opinion truly mattered to her.

She had been fully intending to be up for breakfast; but Remy was still sleeping, and she'd been watching him sleeping; then he'd woken up, and she just had to have a good-morning kiss; between one thing and other, the morning had disappeared completely.

There were cheers and laughter when they entered; she took this opportunity to take a good look at her old friends.  Violet and Sword, teasing Remy as if nothing had happened; Kurt and Rogue, just smiling at them, their hands intertwined; the twins, grinning widely – she blushed, remembering Darklings tendency to eavesdrop; and finally Shadow, welcoming them with a dignified bow.

"Alright, shut up!" called Violet.  "We have an announcement to make – not that Darkling doesn't already know."

Darkling grinned.  "But for once I didn't spread it around, so go right ahead."

Violet took a deep breath.  "I'm pregnant."

The room exploded, everyone coming to hug her at once.

"Whoa!  Breathing necessary, guys!" she said.

"We really must have a party now!" said Brightling, somehow managing both to hug Violet and maintain her contact with Darkling.

Rogue grinned down at Kurt.  The girls had all gone off for 'makeovers', part of which had involved Violet and Storm stealing one of her dresses and raising the hem to a stupid level.  Kurt had seemed to appreciate it, though; which was why, instead of being downstairs with the rest, they were upstairs in the attic, 'practising'.

"Aren't Ah squashing ya tail, Elf?"

"Ja."  
  


"Ya wanna move?"

He grinned up at her.  "Nein.  That sounds like too much work."

She laughed, laying her head on his chest.  They lay like that for a while, Rogue just thinking.  Everything seemed to be going so well nowadays.  Violet and Sword were going to have a baby, Kurt loved her, and Storm had come back for Remy.  So happy she was, that for a brief moment she forgot about her troubles.  And, resting naked on top of Kurt, fell asleep.

Kurt didn't realize what was happening until too late.  He struggled under her, but could feel his strength draining away; he could barely speak.

"Rogue… Liebling… wake up…"

Suddenly Darkling and Brightling dashed into the room, followed closely by Violet – for once his habit of eavesdropping on the activities of the household proving very useful indeed.  Grabbing a blanket, he pulled Rogue away from Kurt, while Violet tried to heal him.

_~Mein Gott, she's never going to forgive herself for this…~_

He felt a little strength come back, then Violet let her hands drop, sighing.

"That's all I can do, Kurt.  You'll be alright for now, but full healing will have to take it's own time."

Rogue struggled out of Darklings grasp, backing into a corner.  In the dim light, he could see that her eyes were yellow, like his own, and an indigo stripe in her dark hair fell across her face.

He reached out to her.  "Liebling…"

His answer was a loud bamf.

"Nein!" he cried, leaping up suddenly.  Violet pushed him back down.

"She just went to her old room." said Darkling, concentrating.  "I'll send Sword…"

But then Brightling frowned.  "No, she's gone somewhere else."

Darkling swore.  "We've lost the trail.  It's difficult to trace when she teleports."

"We'll go get Shadow," suggested Brightling, "see if we can't get a lock on her again."

The phone rang downstairs; Brightling frowned suddenly.

"Who is it?" asked Violet.

Brightling indicated Kurt with one hand.  "It's his mother."

Logan lounged against the counter of yet another seedy bar, surveying the crowd with a look that kept the space on either side of him empty.

"This seat taken?"

He was about to pop a claw and scare her off; then he smelled the familiar scent.

"Raven, ya bitch.  I thought ya were…"

"Dead?" she asked, sliding gracefully onto the stool.  "Yes, so did everyone else.  That was kinda the point."

"Ya mighta told me."

She shrugged.  "Last time I checked on you, you seemed to be rather happy with the X-Men.  One in particular, I believe."

He just growled, downed the beer and ordered another.

Raven shrugged, and they drank in silence for a while.

"It's hard, you know, being like us, Logan.  Watching others grow old; your friends, your family.  Perhaps you don't remember all that, but in your heart…"  She looked straight at him, honey-colored eyes serious for once.

"Could you have done it?  Could you have loved her when she aged and withered in front of your eyes?"

"Don't know, darling.  She never gave me a chance to find out."  He drank the remnants of the second beer.  "Ya want ta go someplace else?"

"Sure.  Just let me make one phone call."

A/N:  Where is Rogue going?  More importantly, who is waiting for her at the other end?  (Hint: it's not good.)  More evilness to follow;  Review, pretty please with whipped cream and pixies on top.  *glares at pixies* Hey!  That's not what the whipped cream is for!


	15. Chapter 15 Two Birds, One Stone

Disclaimer:  No own.  No money.  No sue.

A/N:  I know that in the comicverse, Rogue is Mystique's foster daughter.  I'm writing this in movieverse, though, and from what I've seen there's no way they'll be able to work that into her history, so you may assume that Rogue and Mystique don't know each other at all.

Sword hung up the phone, gently.  "She's coming here as soon as she can."

Shadow nodded.  "I'll stay in contact with her, in case anything turns up."

"I'll call Professor Xavier." said Ororo.  "He can assist in the search."

Shadow grimaced suddenly.  "You and Remy may want to… not be here when Raven arrives."

Ororo frowned at the familiar name.  _~Raven.  Wasn't that what __Logan__ called Mystique?~_

"Why would we do dat?" asked Remy, lounging – and fidgeting – on the couch.

"Because I just got in contact." replied Shadow.  "And she's bringing a friend."  He flashed an image into their minds.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Fair 'nough.  Remy go pack."

Rogue had half-teleported, half stumbled, towards the main highway, and now, wearing sunglasses and the gloves and covering clothes she'd quickly taken from her room, she was riding in the passenger seat of a station wagon, driven by a man who'd taken one look at her outfit and spent the whole of the drive muttering about irresponsible teenagers; that is, when he wasn't banging at the radio trying to get something resembling music to tune in.

She sighed for the hundredth time, and examined the blue streak in her hair.

Couldn't go back.

_~Leibling, come back…~_

She'd almost killed him.

_~I live, I love…~_

Couldn't face him again.

_~I forgive…~_

She turned her eyes out to the long road ahead, and tried to shut out the voice that was Kurt in her head.

_~Mein Rogue.~_

Ororo turned the familiar corner that led up to the mansion, waking up Remy with judicious use of one index finger.

"Wha?... oh."

"Very eloquent, Remy."

He stuck his tongue out at her, child-like; Goddess, she hadn't quite realized how much she'd missed him.

"Remy take it we nearly dere, Stormy?"

"Do not call me Stormy." she said, absentmindedly, but there was a smile on her face.  "Yes, we are about to arrive."  Already, looming up on the right, were the gates to Xaviers; they swung open of their own accord – the red-headed reason for that happenstance bouncing up and down in the driveway with excitement.

Ororo stepped out of the car, and was immediately enveloped in a hug.

"You're back to stay, now?"

She nodded, smiling at her friend.  "Yes, we're here to stay."

The students had gathered by the doorway, staring openly.

"Wow," whispered Jubilee to Kitty.  "Ms Monroe's new guy is hot!"

Unfortunately she'd used the Jubilee version of a whisper; Jean fixed her with a glare.

"Don't you all have classes to be in?"

Ever tactless, Jubilee nodded, popping her gum "Yeah, and you're meant to be teaching them."

"Go on," said Ororo.  "We'll just dump our things in our room; we can catch up later."

Jean nodded, but muttered under her breath. "Those brats are _so going to have a pop quiz."  She smiled at Remy.  "Nice to see you again."_

Scott, teaching a math class, just smiled at her when she peeked through the door, then carried on with his work, much to the obvious disappointment of the students.  Typical Cyclops.  There was very little that could cause him to do something so irresponsible as cut short an algebra class.

The professor, she gathered, was already in Cerebro.  Trying to distract him would have been pointless, so instead she led Remy up to the room she assumed was going to be theirs.

Her old room was just the same – Jean must have been up and watered the plants occasionally, because they all looked alive and well.  Remy just sat on the bed, looking around.  She sat down beside him, and he wrapped one arm around her.  They sat like that for a little while, both silent.

Finally Ororo moved, taking his hand in hers, and examining the thin scar across his wrist, asked

"Are you going to tell me about this?"

His face darkened, and he pulled away from her.  "Stormy…"

"Please, Remy.  I want to understand."

There was a pause.  "Y' know 'bout de empathy t'ing?"

"You mentioned it once or twice, yes."

"De last time Remy use it, was when y' got y' memory back.  Jus' wanted t' know y' were alright."

"And?"

"And where before Remy feel y' love for 'im, dere was not'ing.  Den y' leave wit'out saying anyt'ing, and…"

He shrugged. "Bad t'ings."

She kissed him in response, tangling her fingers through his hair.  After a second, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him.  When the kiss eventually ended, she whispered, "Take another look, Remy.  What do you feel now?"

Ororo tried as best she could to project her feelings out; love, need, want.  It obviously worked, because in a split second they were lying on the bed in a delicious tangle of limbs, the kiss this time more frenzied, his hands moving over her body.

_~Ororo?~_

She bolted upright.  Of all the incredibly bad timings…

_~Yes?~ she replied._

His mental 'voice' was tinged with humor.  _~If you are quite done, I would like to see you and Remy at Cerebro.~_

_~On our way.~_

"Come on, Gambit."  She tapped her forehead.  "We've been summoned."

Rogue awoke with a start.  Her head _really hurt.  What had happened?  Station Wagon Man had pulled in at a gas station, and she'd just gone to buy herself a soda or something…  She noticed, suddenly, that her arms and legs were encased in chains.  Metal ones, though, so that shouldn't be __too much of a problem.  She tried to reach into herself, find the power she'd taken from Magneto so long ago.  The chains started to shudder, the bolts holding them to the walls working their way out.  It was harder than she might have thought._

Suddenly, her concentration was broken by a sharp pain; she looked up to see a smiling, auburn haired woman.

"So glad you're awake." she said.  "Torturing the sleeping really is no fun at all."

"Who the hell are you?" asked Rogue, but she was concentrating on a chair in the corner of the room, it's metal frame responding sluggishly to her mental commands.  At this point she was really wishing that she'd practiced more with the borrowed power; or that what she'd accidentally taken from Kurt had lasted just a little longer.

Finally, the chair lifted, flinging itself at the woman's head; only to be hit by a bright flash of light which sent it, in pieces, into all corners of the room.

"Now, now, none of that.  You're not nearly as skilled with the power you stole from my father as he was."

"Father?"  She concentrated on the chains again, but between all the teleporting she'd done recently, and the struggle to control Magneto's power, she was feeling drained.  The chains barely moved.

The strange woman moved closer, smiling again with that grim smile.  "My father would have done great things.  We had plans, little girl.  It was time – time for us to stop hiding, time for us to come out and take our true and natural place in things, at the top of the heap.  Time to give them a real reason to fear us.  And then you took it all away."

"Wanda Maximoff!"

The hail of the loudspeaker startled both occupants of the room.

"We know you're in there.  You are surrounded, Wanda.  Come out peacefully!"

Wanda snarled, and then there was a gloved fist flying towards Rogue's face, and then only darkness.

Mystique watched her son, his head bowed in prayer.  She knew, when she had given him over to be raised by others, that she would lose part of him.

  
She hadn't expected to lose so much.

He'd barely spoken to her, received her cordially enough; oh, her son had manners.  He was a better man for having lacked her influence.

  
And now he spoke in private with a force she didn't really believe in and barely understood.  The boy-demon, reaching out for his God in his time of need.  Sometimes it made her want to just laugh; his faith was so much stronger than all those who would condemn him for his looks.

Right now, it made her want to cry.

Nearby, Logan still sat, quiet, still.  Waiting for a message; waiting for someone to tell him who to kill.  Her love, although she'd never spoken the words out loud.  She'd thought there had been an implicit understanding between them; she'd thought he'd understood.

And then she'd lost another that had been close to her heart.

Now this time of crisis had brought them back together; the man who still loved another, and the boy who knew his God better than he knew his mother.

Raven Darkholme sighed, and leaned back on the sofa.  Let there be news soon.  Please, let there be news soon.

"Lieutenant Danvers!"

The blond woman turned her head, up to where Davis was coming down from the sweep.

"She's gone roof-to-roof.  We've got three teams following her – she won't get away."

Ah, to be young and optimistic.  What Danvers really wanted was to fly over there and put a super-strength fist through Maximoff's head, but wearing the uniform she did had… limitations, rules she had to play by.

Oh well, maybe another time.

With Davis following her, they made the sweep through Wanda's hideout, cautiously – she'd been known to leave booby-traps behind.

It was what was on the third floor that was interesting.  Booby-traps, maybe, but she'd never known the Scarlet Witch to use hostages, if that's what the girl had been.  It wasn't her M.O.  Besides, why kidnap a hostage and then leave her behind when the feds show up?

The girl was unconscious; dispatching Davis to get the medics in, she approached her, taking her lolling head in both hands.  She seemed to be breathing fairly well, although that nose looked broken; taking off one glove, Carol decided she'd better take a pulse, just to check that the girl would live long enough for the ambulance to get here.

Some streets away, the dangerous outlaw known as the 'Scarlet Witch' laughed, as she evaded yet another one of Danvers precious little squads.  Such a pity; she'd wanted to take out Ms Marvel herself, but this had seemed more prudent.

What could be better?  Two birds.  One stone.

A/N:  This chapter took ages to write – I had minor writers block, so apologies if it's not up to scratch.  At least it's longer than the last chapter.  I'm trying to psyche myself up to write the ending the way I kinda know I have to, not the way I really want to, which would have been much fluffier.  (And if that's not a hint, I don't know what is)


	16. Chapter 16 Needing You

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  Yadda yadda yadda, don't sue me.  I have nothing.

A/N: To those of you who think this is a little weird 'cos technically (at least in comic-verse), Rogue is Kurt's foster-sister, you might want to remember that Nightcrawlers childhood sweetheart, Jimaine (a.k.a. Amanda Sefton), who he had a fairly length relationship with in the comics, was actually his foster-sister as well, as they were both raised by Jimaine's mother Margali, who found Kurt as a baby.  It's going to be interesting to see whether Movie-Kurt knows whether or not Mystique is his mother (assuming they leave at least _that_ piece of history intact)…

Rant ends.  Story resumes from here.

Xavier shook his head, sadly, as he exited Cerebro.  Jean arrived at about the same time as Ororo and Remy, all of them awaiting an answer.

"Nothing." said the professor.  "I can't even get the slightest hint of her."  He sighed.  "It is possible that she is a natural psi-blocker, or that absorbing Kurt somehow affected her brainwave patterns.  Either way, I can't find her.  It's a pity there aren't any empaths in the mansion; it still might be possible to track her through her emotional signature…"

"Uh, Professor?"

Xavier continued his thoughts aloud.  "I think Moira knew of someone… perhaps I should…"

"Remy can do t' empathy t'ing."

"Oh."  Xavier looked sharply at him.  "I'd have to guide you.  Cerebro amplifies psionic powers many times over; are you sure you can handle this?"

Remy leaned back into Ororo's arms a little, as if seeking comfort, but replied quickly.  "Oui, Remy will be fine."

Jean and Ororo sat in the library, each nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for Xavier and Gambit to finish in Cerebro.  Jean's students had been given a free period, on the condition that they, as Jean put it 'keep the hell out of our way'.  Thus out the window could be seen many joyous young mutants who were switching between playing tag and making fun of those students stuck with Scott, who was continuing on with the English Literature afternoon class, having briefly emerged between his classes to give Ororo a hug.

Ororo frowned, wondering whether Scott would be okay with Remy living at the mansion.  He hadn't said anything, but then again, this was the man who had made disapproving silence into an art form.

Jean was watching Ororo over the brim of her coffee mug, green eyes alight with a question she was obviously dying to ask.  Frankly, Storm was getting tired of it.  "What?" she snapped.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't play innocent, Jean.  What is it you wanted to know?"

Her friend laughed, and shrugged.  "Why?  Why Remy?"

Ororo frowned, suddenly staring at the ceiling.

"Too personal a question?" asked Jean.

"No, it's not that."  Ororo looked Jean straight in the eye.  "You remember Forge, right?"

Jean Grey made a gagging noise.  "Yep, the bastard."

"After that, I was a little – once bitten, twice shy?"

"Perfectly understandable."  Jean took another sip of coffee.

"So with me and Logan… I don't know.  He's been hurt before too, and it was like…  It was like two wounded hearts, learning to trust again.  It was hard, Jean."

"You're telling me?"  The redhead's eyes widened comically.  " 'Ro, I was there for _that train-wreck.  I spent __months plotting to lock you both in a room somewhere until you sorted yourselves out."  She tapped her forehead.  "All that UST was giving me a headache."_

"Jean!"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry.  And I do understand what you mean.  Logan doesn't strike me as the easiest person in the world to love.  And I take it Remy is 'different'?"

"Remy…"  Ororo began.  "Remy has a very simple view of life.  No matter how many times he's been knocked down, he doesn't let it change him.  He loves… wholeheartedly.  He chooses to love or to hate someone or something and then he does that with the entirety of his being.  And I… and I was Silver, when I met him.  No memories of hurt, just the freedom to love.  His attitude is infectious, you know."  She sighed.  "No fear.  Sometimes that's a little scary."

"Because he loves you so much?"

"Because I know he doesn't ever stop.  Logan… I've hurt him, and I'm sorry, but he will heal.  He'll get better and he'll learn to forget me and he'll move on, eventually.  Remy… knock him down and he'll get back up, yes, but… it leaves a scar."

Jean nodded.  "I saw his wrists, 'Ro.  Is that why you're doing this, because Remy needs you more than Logan does?"

"That's not a fair question, Jean?"

"It still needs an answer, 'Ro."

"Maybe it's because I need Remy more than I need Logan."

Jean gave her a long look.  "He better not break your heart, 'Ro.  They'd be lining up 'round the block to kick his ass." She sighed.  "Remy and the X-Men, right?  Best of both worlds?"

"You think I was unfair to Logan, by wanting things this way?"

"Life's unfair, 'Ro.  Wasn't any way you were getting out of this without breaking someone's heart."

Remy was flying.  Plugged in and amped up and the Prof was a mere presence beside him.  Whole world laid out before him in Christmas lights and their love and laughter and joy and… _Merde__.__  He slammed up his shields.  Hard not to take the bad with the good and the hate and frustration and sorrow had poured in, threatening to overwhelm him._

No time now for flying, while the petite was in danger.  He let himself fall towards the earth, feeling, not hearing, the gasp of his 'guide', and glided, letting his instincts find her.  Many many little lights meant a city and he was shielding so they were dull and fading but there was one there that was like a flame, like a bright peak and he recognized her.  Went to embrace her, and all of sudden his shields were fading because her agony was like a bright knife through his chest, all her pain pouring out through his own wounds.  Trying to shield the professor, taking it all on himself and now he really was falling, freefall and the presence of Rogue was like acid, eating away at him and she didn't mean it, no she didn't mean it but she's dead she's dead and she's in my head.  Bright force surrounds him; it's the professor, and then he's rising again, the last tendrils of Rogue slipping away and it was brightness, brightness, the light blinding him.

And then darkness.

Jean was the one who heard the Professors telepathic cry, but Ororo reached Cerebro first, fear giving her a fleet-footedness she hadn't realized she had.  The Professor was conscious, barely, but Remy was slumped over.  As Ororo took him into his arms the Professor managed to croak out.

"Chicago."

"What?"  Jean was by Xavier's side at an instant, giving her the 'don't you tire him out look' that they must have taught her in medical school, but Ororo continued anyway.  "You found her?"

A slow nod.  "Gambit found her.  Chicago.  He took the brunt of it.  She's afraid, Ororo, and in great pain."

Scott turned up, taking Remy from her.  Ororo was told she was 'in the way', and she was shooed out of the infirmary, and ended up sitting in the kitchen, facing the phone.  She picked it up, dialing a familiar number.

_~Chicago.~_

"It's Ororo." said Brightling, from floor level.  Logan looked like he was about to go for the phone, but Kurt was there first, breaking several laws of physics in order to pick up the phone half-way through the first ring.  Hanging off the ceiling, he grasped the phone in one hand, the other hand signaling for silence.

"Ororo?"

"Kurt, is that you?"  
  


"Ja.  You find something?"  The others started to gather round.

"Xavier can't find her telepathically, he thinks she's shielding somehow.  But he got Remy to help him out and they have a location: Chicago.  I know it's a bit vague, but it's the best the professor could do.  Perhaps when Remy wakes up he'll be able to give a more precise location, but until then."

"Wait a second.  Remy's hurt?  Silver, will he be okay?"  
  


"I think so…" her voice wavered.  "Jean chased me out of the way."

"Okay.  Keep in touch if you find out anything else."

Kurt handed the phone to Brightling, then bamfed out of the house.  

"And where does he think he's going?" asked Raven.

Brightling rolled her eyes.  "Chicago.  He's in the garage, you can still catch him."

Raven headed out the door, muttering to herself, and Logan followed.  Brightling turned her attention back to the phone.

"Ororo, please tell me that Cajun idiot didn't do what I think he did.  He still unconscious?"

"Yes.  Brightling, what aren't you telling me?"

  
 "It's more about what Remy wasn't telling you.  He could have killed himself pulling a stunt like that, Silver.  Why do you think Shadow spent so much time with him just working on _shielding.  He doesn't have the empathic finesse needed for detection – let __alone manipulation, without dropping his shields.  Drops his shields, and he's vulnerable to all kinds of backlash."_

"I see."  Storm's tone was icy.

"When he wakes up, you give him a piece of your mind.  Then let me know, and I'll give him a piece of mine."

Rogue shivered, pulling what meager clothing she had around her.  Her stomach was persistently reminding her that she was out of money and hadn't eaten since she'd left home.

_~You think you've got problems, honey?  I'm dead!~_

And then there was the caustic voice of Carol Danvers, roaming around inside her brain.  The same mental exercises Shadow had taught her kept the other woman's mind at bay for short periods of time, but she'd come back, threatening to destroy Rogue, one way or another.

There was a church on the corner, its lights lit up, and she slipped inside.  Evening mass was about to start and although having people around made her jumpy, the church at least offered warmth and protection from the wind.

The sermon was on the topic of forgiveness, which both parts of her dual-mind found amusing.  The part that was Rogue wandered, inevitably, onto the subject of Kurt.  He had such strong faith – faith in God, and faith in her.  In part, she wished he was by her side; keeping her warm, making her whole again.  As soon as that thought came into her mind, she pushed it away.  She'd only end up hurting him again.

The part that was Carol Danvers just paced back and forth within the confines of her mental prison.  

_~For gods sake, girl, stop feeling sorry for yourself and get us some food!  I'll be damned if I have to die a _second_ time because you're too busy beating yourself over the head with a metaphorical stick.  All you took for me – strength and power you've never dreamed of – and you're starving us to death and freezing our ass off to boot.  Not particularly grateful, are you?~_

_~Would ya prefer Ah was grateful?  That Ah was glad Ah killed ya?~  Rogue shot back._

That silenced Carol, for the moment, and Rogue was alone with her memories, and her tears.


	17. Chapter 17 Dicussions, and Many Meetings

Disclaimer:  I own nothing (except the OC's), and the pixies own me.  g

Logan concentrated on the road; or tried to.  Kurt was asleep – finally; his mother had threatened several times to knock him over the head if he didn't stay still.  Now, she reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Don't, Raven."

She looked hurt, damn her, for a second, an expression that one didn't usually associate with Mystique.  She snatched the hand back, turning away from him.  "Sorry."

Wonderful.  Now he felt guilty, on top of all the _other_ conflicting thoughts and emotions that were going through his head.

There were a few minutes of awkward silence, along the long, straight, highway.  Finally Wolverine spoke.

"Darlin'?"

"Hmm?"

"D'ya think I'm… a good man?"

Golden honey-eyes blinked at him in surprise.  "Not all the time, Logan.  You're a man that gets things done, and sometimes that means that you do things that perhaps you shouldn't.  Kurt," she smiled over her shoulder at her still-sleeping son, "he's a good man.  He'll always do what is right – and you can see how that hurts him.  He doesn't understand…" a look approaching regret crossed her face.  "He doesn't understand that sometimes you do things not because they are right, but because it is what has to be done at the time."

One eyebrow lifted.  "We still talking about me, Raven?"

She laughed, then, a bitter sound.  "Maybe."  She paused, and slid her hand onto his arm again.  "You want me to drive, give you a rest?"

"Nah, I'm good."

But when she didn't take her hand away, he didn't complain.  "Get some sleep, darlin'"

So she lay back, and she did let her hand slide away from him, catching snatches of sleep here and there as they sped towards Chicago.  Once she woke up, abruptly, and thought she'd caught him staring at her, a hint of a smile on his face.

Probably just her imagination.

A figure wanders aimlessly among cold streets.  To shut Carol up, she'd found a soup kitchen and eventually managed to eat something, although it sits heavy on her stomach.  The smiling woman behind the counter had complimented her on her 'pretty hair', and it is this hair which she now examines in a shop window, the blue streak left behind from Kurt now a pure white, gleaming translucent across her brow.

She wishes she had a knife – then she could hack it all off.  She wanted no reminders of what she had done.

_~You're worried about a bit of hair, little girl?  If I was you, I'd be more worried about the fact that I AM TRAPPED INSIDE YOUR STINKING HEAD!~_

But Danver's ranting has no visible effect, as she pauses in the shadow of an office building, to dip her hand in the ornamental fountain.  She's just drifting, drifting and fading.  And soon, she knows, she will fade away altogether.

Remy opened his eyes slowly, examining his surroundings.  Clean shining metal walls, clean shining furniture and equipment.  Rather dishevelled and quite annoyed looking Ororo sitting by his side.  Glaring at him.  Right, what had he done now?  His forehead screwed up in concentration.  Ow.  Thinking hurt.  Storm continued to glare at him, and slowly memory came back.

_Merde__.__  He was going to be in trouble, especially if she'd already talked to Brightling.  He chanced another look at the set expression on her face.  Oui, he was in trouble._

"Stormy…"  If anything, she was looking even more annoyed.  What now?  Oh, right.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  

"Ororo…  uh…"  Before his panicked mind could come up with much more than that, she moved (quickly, with the grace of a cat, he noted appreciatively) and starting yelling at him.

"Do you have any idea, Remy, how worried I was?  What did you think you were doing?!  You could have killed yourself!!"

Smiling at her obvious care for him, he simply replied "S'okay, chere.  Remy alright."

Her eyes narrowed, and she said.  "Fine then.  If you're feeling 'alright', sit up."

Mentally he shrugged.  There was an IV running into one arm, so he used the other arm to prop himself up – or at least tried to.  His muscles felt like jelly.  Wobbling slightly, he did manage to get half-way into a sitting position, only to collapse when Storm poked him in the chest.

Only one thing left to try then.  He grinned at her.  "Y'know, chere, y' look beautiful when y' angry."

Disbelief and laughter warred in her eyes, before laughter won out.  "Why, you…" She hit him on the arm, not too hard, and then treated him to a kiss that took his breath away and really did turn his legs to jelly.  "Get some rest, Gambit."

He watched her sashay out of the room, and then stared at the ceiling, a decidedly silly grin on his face.

"Yep, Gambit." he whispered to himself.  "Y' in trouble now."

Xavier had threatened, pleaded and cajoled, and now he resorted to sheer trickery to get himself back into Cerebro.  Peering round the corner, he raced down the passageway, deceptively strong arms giving him the speed he needed.  Only to be caught telekinetically three feet from the doorway.  

_~Nice try.~ said Jean's dry mind-voice.  __~You're worse than the children sometimes, do you know that?~_

_~I need to know what's going on, Jean.  And I might be able to find her – to search one city, really, it is not that tiring.~_

A stony green-eyed look was his reply, but before either of them could say anything more, Scott rushed in.

"You need to take a look at this."

**…once again, an FBI agent by the name of Carol Danvers died late last night after being attacked by an unknown mutant.**

A picture was flashed up on the screen, a young woman with blank eyes and a white streak through her hair.

**Ms Danvers, a thirty-two year old agent who transferred to the bureau five years ago, was, her colleagues say, an outgoing, life-loving woman, who will be sadly missed.  The unknown mutant is said to have taken to the skies in order to escape and is thought to be within the greater ****Chicago**** area.  As police and federal agencies continue the search for her, the public is warned that this woman is highly dangerous and should not be approached.  Anyone with information should call one of the following numbers…**

"It must have been an accident." said Ororo, tears in her eyes.  "Rogue's just a child, she would never hurt anyone like that."

But a look passed between the others, thinking of Erik Magnus Lensheer, once known as Magneto, now a resident of very discreet and very expensive private mental health institution.  And the thought was - _~But what if it wasn't?~_

A set of baleful eyes, shining red as the fires of hell, watched the broadcast also.

"What I wonder, Wanda, is why, when you had her in her grasp, did you let the girl go.  My orders, as you might recall, were _quite specific."_

His auburn-haired companion shrugged.  "Seems to me, Sinister, it's better this way.  Surely she is of more interest to you now?"

Something between a growl and a snarl crossed Essex's lips.  "And how much more difficult will it be to catch and retain the subject?  I do not pay you to think; nor do I pay you to play games with your captives, no matter how personal you think the matter is."

Wanda flushed.  "I'll find her, don't worry."

"I am quite sure you will.  But just to make sure there are no more… diversions… from the plan – Scalphunter, Arclight.  Go with her."

Two burly figures stepped forward from the shadows, Arclight grinning broadly.  "Sure thing, boss."

Logan leaned against the car as Kurt and Mystique stretched their tired limbs, taking a deep breath of air.  No scent of the kid – yet.  He considered their options.

"Kurt, she take any money with her?"

"Just grabbed some clothes, I think.  Why?"

"Girls gotta eat sometime.  We can start by hitting kitchens, shelters, anywhere where she might get free food, a place to stay, or some money."   He smiled at Kurt, already cheered up by the prospect of doing _something_, and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "Don't worry, kid.  We'll find her."

A/N:  But wait, there's more!  Or at least there will be.  *evil giggle*  Fear me.  Sorry it's a bit short.


	18. Chapter 18 Bait

Disclaimer: Hundredth verse, same as the first…

Kurt walked up to the counter.  He'd quickly realised that the kindly and somewhat jaded men and woman who ran the various shelters and kitchens had little interest in who, or indeed what, he looked like.  Still, he wrapped his unusual features in a large hooded jacket and kept his tail tucked in for fear of, as Logan put it 'scaring some poor bastard into sobriety'.

The portly, cheerful, woman behind the counter took a look at the photo, as requested.  But instead of the usual grunt or 'sorry, dear', her face lit up in recognition.  

"Ah, the girl with the pretty hair!  I thought she might have been a runaway.  She came in 'bout an hour and a half ago, just after the first rush.  Was only here for half an hour.  Don't talk much, do she?"

"Do you know where she went?"

A shrug was his answer; she said something else, but he was already moving.  Outside, Logan wrinkled his noise in disgust.

"She was here!"

"Don't get yer hopes up, Elf.  I can barely track a thing, the way this place stinks."

Mystique looked like she was about to hit him; Wolverine sighed.  "Don't give me that look, Raven.  I'm still the best at what I do, remember?  This way."

Muttering something uncomplimentary about the shapeshifter, he stalked away in an apparently random direction, the other two following.

Wanda walked with purpose, head held high, stride long, and fingers twitching.  The last was because the two Marauders who Sinister had insisted on sending with her were walking behind her, snickering, sniggering, and making small talk, the content of which wasn't worth thinking about.  Already she could feel her cheeks burning.

Damn stupid brat musta had some sense in her, because she was nowhere to be found.  They'd picked up on the trail the FBI had lost, but then she'd just… disappeared.  Brat.  She needed her alive… well, mostly alive, although Sinister hadn't been very happy with her interpretation of that command.  The girl alive, and Essex would restore her father, that was the deal.  She smiled to herself, happily.  The X-Men weren't as clever as they thought – she still had contacts left over from when her father had still ruled over the Brotherhood, now scattered to the four winds.  She'd quickly found out where they'd stashed him, a ruined, babbling, idiot.  Her father, one of the strongest mutants in the world, reduced to nothing by a mere child.

And for what?  The Scarlet Witch had never had any problems with a certain amount of collateral damage.  It was, she understood, the way things were.  Pietro whined and carried on and complained about it, of course; for all his arrogance, her brother was soft.  And he wondered why she had quickly become her fathers favourite?

But for the sake of some silly mutant or other who been stupid enough to get in the way of Victor Creed, all her dreams had been pulled down around her ears.  Impossible.  Inexcusable.

She was so deep into her mental rant that she barely had time for more than a muffled expletive, as Scalphunter grabbed her and swung her into a nearby doorway.  It stank of piss and rotting vegetables and she was about to complain when she noticed Arclight had flattened herself against a niche on the other side of the alleyway.

"What?" she hissed; only to be shushed by Scalphunter – the two marauders exchanged looks, obviously coming to a conclusion over whatever it was they'd just seen.

"What?" asked Mystique, when they suddenly stopped by the entrance of an alleyway.  "She go down there?"

There was a half-frown on Logan's face.  "No." he replied, and after another pause, looking suspiciously at the alleyway beside them, he continued on.

Arclight, once she was fairly sure Logan was out of hearing range, let out a low string of curses potent enough to make a sailor blush.  "What's _he doing here?"_

The pretty little thing they'd been sent to baby-sit was, by the looks of things, absolutely furious.  "What the hell do you think you are…" she near-screamed, until Scalphunter, thankfully, clapped his hand back over her mouth.

"Quiet, girl." he said.  "Just because Sinister clones us every time we drop dead don't mean we look forward to it none.  Funny coincidence, though."  This last was aimed at Arclight.

"Indeed."  She grinned.  "What'cha wanna bet that our dear, dear, friend is also after a certain powerful yet irritating little mutant?"

Wanda had been released by now, but just stood there looking dumfounded.

"Come on then." said Scalphunter.  "And be quiet!"

"Very, very quiet." laughed Arclight.  "We're hunting Wolverines!"

They were moving slower now, although Logan insisted they were getting closer.  He kept looking behind him; nothing was ever revealed there.  But Kurt's insistence that they keep moving forward kept him from going back and checking.  

Then they rounded a corner, and there she was.  Sitting on the edge of a fountain, trailing her fingers in the water.  Kurt was moving before Logan or Mystique could grab him, tell him to be careful.  Not caring who saw him, he teleported to her side.

"Mein Rogue?"

Slowly she looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.  He'd thought long and hard about what he should say, when he found her again, but words left him… as her lips met his.

For those few glorious moments his world was reduced to Rogue, just Rogue.  The scent of her, the feel of her in his arms once more… indescribable.  Perfection, salvation, damnation.  And then she pulled back, and the moment was over.

He'd always understood her, better than anyone else, so when she whispered  "Ahm sorry, Kurt." he simply replied.  

"I know."

  
He'd lost her.

So he just watched as she'd stepped back; as she took to the skies, leaving him behind.  He barely had time to wonder at her new power before he collapsed, crumbling under his own weight.  It was suddenly hard to breathe; his vision blurred.  He was vaguely aware of his mother and Wolverine, either side of him.

A voice, speaking in a soothing tone, reached his ears, but the words were impossible to discern.  Grief dampened all his senses; for a moment, everything went dim.

Then the world was back, coming slowly into focus.  He shook off the helping hands, stood up.

"Kurt?"  That was Mama.  How to explain?  He turned to her, surprised to see what looked like tears of her own, glittering at the corners of her eyes.  

He shrugged.  "If you love something, set it free."  Then he collapsed again.

It was lucky, in Arclight's opinion, that Wolverine was otherwise occupied with the blubbering blue mutant.  Else he would have definitely noticed the girl swearing, very, very, loudly.  

"Wanda?" she asked.  "Do you know much about fishing?"

That stopped her.  The Scarlet Witch just stared at her.  "What on earth does fishing," she drawled.  "have to do with anything!  What are we doing sitting here?  Go after her!"

Arclight just held up one finger, grinning.  Sometimes working for Sinister was just so much damn _fun.  "Now, now.  Listen to teacher.  When I was a kid, my dad used to take me fishing, right?"_

"I thought your dad tried to drown you when he found out you was a mutie." grumbled Scalphunter good-naturedly.  

Arclight waved that consideration away.  "Tried being the operative word, 'cause I got him instead, didn't I?  Fat old idiot ended up floating down the river, scaring all the fish away."  She grinned, lost in memories of times past.  "What was I talking about again?"

"Patricide?" asked Wanda, facetiously.

"Naw, before that" replied Arclight, now enjoying herself immensely.  Girl looked like she was about to explode with impatience.

"Fishing." suggested Scalphunter; from the glint in his eyes he already knew where this discussion was going.

"Right.  So, when I was a kid, we used to go fishing all the time.  And you know what the most important thing is, Wanda, when you go fishing?"

"Enlighten me." was her reply.

"Bait."  Arclight grinned as Wanda's eye was now drawn to the blue boy with the tail being practically carried down the street away from them.  "The most important thing is to have the right bait." 


	19. Chapter 19 Truths

Disclaimer:  Nope, I'm not even allowed the delusion of grandeur g.  Marvel and the movie people own the X-Men.

Raven emerged from the shower, shifting without thought into the form of the young tourist that she'd been using around the city.  Wolverine frowned.

"Ya don't need ta do that, Darlin'.  Curtain's closed."

"Oh."  She shifted back into her natural form.

"Now that's a _much nicer view."_

She rolled her eyes and examined the blue-fuzz outlined dent in the second bed that had been Kurt.  "Where'd he go?"

"Vending machines.  Kid's already had 'bout eight bucks worth of chocolate, but apparently he wanted some more."

"You let him go by himself?"

A shrug.  "Why not?  He'll be fine, Rav.  He's not going ta die of a broken heart."

"I'm still standing." she replied, quietly.  "Doesn't mean I'm 'fine'."

"And what do ya want from me?  An apology?  D'ya want me ta say sorry, Rav?"

"Might be a start." she snapped back, perhaps with a little more venom then she intended.

"Why?  'Sorry' is a waste of breath, Mystique.  It's a hollow, ugly, word."

"Not if you mean it."

"No-one ever means it, darlin'.  You're more naïve than yer boy, sometimes."

"And you're just bitter, Logan."

"You ever kill anyone, Raven?"

"What sort of question is that?"

He lit up a cigar; sent a puff of smoke in the direction of the 'please do not smoke' sign.  "One that requires a yes or no answer."

"Yes, but you knew that already."

"Up close?"

"What sort of perverse…"

"Yes or no, Raven.  You always use that gun you're so fond of, or have you ever used yer hands, a knife?"

"No," she answered, faltering.  "Never up close."

Another puff of smoke joined the cloud – he must have disconnected the smoke alarm.  

"The smell of blood clings to the skin.  Ya can try as hard as you like to get rid of it, but it'll stay there until it's good and ready to leave.  I always know a man that's killed, because of the smell.  Old blood smells like rotting meat, Rav, like the grave."

He exhaled, examining the cigar he held.  "That's the first smell I can remember, because that's the smell that was on me when I woke up."

If she was surprised by that admission, she didn't show it.

He shrugged.  "I suppose I could hope that whoever it was, they deserved it.  Musta done something ta piss me off, right?  Some hikers, they found me.  Dragged me outta the snow, up ta some cabin of theirs.  Roads were closed, snowed in.  Probably thought I was gonna die.  Bet I surprised them. The woman – I can't remember her name – she smelt like roses."

For a second he paused, as if searching for a distant memory.

"I killed her."

Raven could keep silent no longer.  "Why?...  They were…"

"Trying to help me?  I don't remember why, Rav.  She probably forgot the basic rule: ya don't corner an injured animal.  I ran through the snow fer a couple days, and by the time I got to a road I remembered what cars were for.  Never looked back."

There was a long silence.

"Was that supposed to be an apology?"

"No, darlin'.  Just a truth.  More honest than an apology."

She sighed, as if despairing of him.  "Shouldn't Kurt be back by now?"

As they rounded the corner Logan suddenly took off at speed towards the vending machines, swearing loudly.  In front of the chocolate machine was a small patch of blood and blue fur; the wall was damaged as well, cracks radiating outwards from a large hole.

"Arclight and Scalphunter." he hissed.  "Plus one other.  It's Sinister."

"What is _that?" asked Sinister, as they entered the lab, the unconscious blue mutant slung over Scalphunter's shoulder._

"Ask her." snarled Wanda in return, disappearing out of the room.

Arclight shrugged.  "Bait, boss.  Seems the girl's proving a little harder to catch then planned."   Scalphunter tossed their captive carelessly into a cell behind her.  "So we got a little friend of hers, to give her a motive to come out of hiding."

Kurt felt cold concrete underneath him and a throbbing pain at the back of his head.  Either he'd had a fight with the vending machine, or…

"Perhaps next time you capture someone for me, Arclight, you could try not nearly killing them?  A gentle tap on the head would have sufficed."

"Whatever, boss."

"What is his power, by the way?"

"He teleports."

Oh yeah.  Kurt tried to open his eyes.   Wasn't a good idea to teleport 'blind' at the best of times, and especially not when he was injured, so if he could just figure out where the door was…

"Wonderful.  So putting him in a cell is pretty much useless, is it not?"

" 's unconscious, boss."

"Eventually, Scalphunter, he will either wake up, or he will die.  That is the way of the world.  Here."

There was the noise of a drawer sliding open; the 'Boss' voice muttered something to himself.  There was something holding one of his eyelids shut; something sticky that had dried across his eye.  Was it blood?  Was it his?

"That's all the way from Genosha.  Try not to break it, will you?"

Something slid around Kurt's neck with a 'snap'; suddenly he felt cut off from the world, as if one of his senses was missing.  Finally, his eyes opened; he saw feet, and across from them was a door.  But he couldn't teleport; that part of him was there, but it was hidden from him.  He felt dizzy, unbalanced.  The feet moved away, the sound of a door swinging shut accompanied them.

The conversation continued.

"There is one flaw in your plan, Arclight.  If you can't find this girl, how do you propose to inform her that we even _have her friend?"_

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, boss."

"Oh really?"

"Yep.  We've got a dear, dear, friend whose going to do it for us."

_~Shadow!~_

_~Raven, could you not shout?  We've been trying to get in touch with Rogue all day – we make contact, she slams up shields.  It's giving me a headache.~_

_~Sorry.  But you can get in touch with her?~_

_~Briefly; I'm not sure where she learnt to shield like that, but she's damn good.  Raven… is everything alright?~_

_~It's Kurt; Kurt, he… *image*~_

_~Calm down, Raven.  We'll try and find him – and contact Rogue.  Have you got in touch with the X-Men?~_

_~We're going to; Shadow, if anything happens to him…~_

_~It wont, Raven.  We wont let it.~_

Raven opened her eyes, to find that Logan had disappeared.  Frowning, both from his sudden disappearance, and from the headache she always got when using telepathy, she peered around the corner.    
 "Logan?"

Suddenly he tapped her shoulder.  She jumped a little.  "Don't do that.  Where's a payphone; we ought to call the X-Men"

He shook his head.  "No time.  Shadow and that lot contacting Rogue?"

"Yes."

"Good.  Gotta trail.  Come on."

_~Rogue?~_

The figure swept through the sky, the telepathic call going unacknowledged.  Well above the flight path of any airplane, so high that the tears froze almost immediately, she still wept.  Carol ranted behind her shields, snarling, calling her pathetic, demanding that they do something, anything!

_~Rogue, listen!~_

She shook her head, rising, rising until the air almost froze in her lungs.  Carol's acidic voice told her that wouldn't work, wouldn't kill her, but still she rose.

_~Kurt is in trouble.~_

Four words, accompanied by a flurry of images, snuck past her shields by Carol, the saboteur within her mind.

The figure wheeled mid-air, changing course, heading downwards; the tears dried by the wind rushing past her face.  She moved with a new purpose.

_~Finally.~  said a voice within her mind, but whose it was she couldn't tell.  It didn't matter._

She had work to do.

A/N:  Finally indeed g  Sorry about not updating this very frequently; RL stuff happening.  Review!   (Or the pixies will get you!)


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